m  MEM0E.IAM 
Mary  J.   L.   Mc  Donald 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN 


GEORGE   MAC    DONALD,   LL.D. 

AUTHOR   OF 

"robert  falconer,"  "david  elginerod," 
"sir  gibbie,"etc.  etc. 


*         *         *         *         a  faith  sincere 
Drawn  from  the  wisdom  that  begins  with  fear. 

Wordsworth. — Second Evetutig  Voluntary. 


NEW    YORK 
GEORGE    ROUTLEDGE   Ax\D    SONS 

9,   LAFAYETTE    PLACE 


ALEC  FOKBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  farm-yard  was  full  of  tte  light  of  a  summer  noontide. 
Nothing  can  be  so  desolately  dreary  as  full  strong  sunlight  can 
be.  Not  a  living  creature  was  to  be  seen  in  all  the  square  in- 
closure,  though  cow-houses  and  stables  formed  the  greater  part 
of  it,  and  one  end  was  occupied  by  a  dwelling-house.  Away 
through  the  gate  at  the  other  end,  far  off  in  fenced  fields,  might 
be  seen  the  dark  forms  of  cattle  ;  and  on  a  road,  at  no  great 
distance,  a  cart  crawled  along,  drawn  by  one  sleepy  horse.  An 
occasional  weary  low  came  from  some  imprisoned  cow — or 
animal  of  the  cow-kind ;  but  not  even  a  cat  crossed  the  yard. 
The  door  of  the  barn  was  open,  showing  a  polished  floor,  as 
empty,  bright,  and  clean  as  that  of  a  ball-room.  And  through 
the  opposite  door  shone  the  last  year's  ricks  of  corn,  golden  in 
the  sun. 

Now,  although  a  farm-yard  is  not,  either  in  Scotland  or 
elsewhere,  the  liveliest  of  places  in  ordinary,  and  still  less  about 
noon  in  summer,  yet  there  was  a  peculiar  cause  rendering  this 
one,  at  this  moment,  exceptionally  deserted  and  dreary.  But 
there  were,  notwithstanding,  a  great  many  more  people  about 
the  place  than  was  usual,  only  they  were  all  gathered  together 
in  the  ben-end,  or  best  room  of  the  house — a  room  of  tolerable 
size,  with  a  clean  boarded  floor,  a  mahogany  table,  black  with 
age,  and  chairs  of  like  material,  whose  wooden  seats,  and  high, 
straight  backs,  were  more  suggestive  of  state  than  repose.  Every 
one  of  these  chairs  was  occupied  by  a  silent  man,  whose  gaze 
was  either  fixed  on  the  floor,  or  lost  in  the  voids  of  space.  Each 
wore  a  black  coat,  and  most  of  them  were  in  black  throughout. 
Their  hard,  thick,  brown  hands — hands  evideutly  imused  to 
idleness — ^grasped  their  knees,  or,  folded  in  each  other,  rested 


4  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

upon  them.  Some  bottles  and  glasses,  with  a  plate  of  biscuits, 
on  a  table  in  a  corner,  seemed  to  indicate  that  the  meeting  was 
not  entirely  for  business  purposes  ;  and  yet  there  were  no  signs 
of  any  sort  of  enjoyment.  Nor  was  there  a  woman  to  be  seen 
in  the  company. 

Suddenly,  at  the  open  door,  appeared  a  man  whose  shirt- 
sleeves showed  very  white  against  his  other  clothing,  which, 
like  that  of  the  rest,  was  of  decent  black.  He  addressed  the 
assembly  thus : 

"  Grin  ony  o'  ye  want  to  see  the  corp,  iioo's  yer  time." 

To  this  offer  no  one  responded ;  and,  with  a  slight  air  of 
'discomfiture,  for  he  was  a  busy  man,  and  liked  bustle,  the  car- 
penter turned  en  Ivs  heel,  and  re-ascended  the  narrow  stairs  to 
the  upper  room,  where  the  corpse  lay,  waiting  for  its  final  dis- 
irj-iiiSioa  and  courted  oblivion. 

"1  reckon  they've  a'  seen  him  afore,"  he  remarked,  as  he 
rejoined  his  companion.  "  Puir  fallow  !  He's  unco  {uncoutlily) 
worn.     There'll  no  be  muckle  o'  liim  to  rise  again." 

"  George,  man,  dinna  jeest  i'  the  face  o'  a  corp,"  returned 
the  other.     "  Te  kenna  whan  yer  ain  turn  may  come." 

"  It's  no  disrespeck  to  the  deid,  Thamas.  That  ye  ken  weel 
eneuch.  I  was  only  pityin'  the  worn  face  o'  him,  leukin  up 
there  atween  the  buirds,  as  gin  he  had  gotten  what  he  wanted 
sae  lang,  and  was  thankin'  heaven  for  that  same.  I  jist  dinna 
like  to  pit  the  lid  ower  him." 

"  Hoot !  hoot !  Lat  the  Lord  luik  efter  his  ain.  The  lid  o' 
the  cofiin  disna  hide  frae  his  een." 

The  last  speaker  was  a  stout,  broad-shouldered  man,  a  stone- 
mason by  trade,  powerful,  and  somewhat  asthmatic.  He  was 
regarded  in  the  neighbourhood  as  a  very  religious  man,  but  was 
more  respected  than  liked,  because  his  forte  was  rebuke.  It  was 
from  deference  to  him  that  the  carpenter  had  assumed  a  mental 
position  generating  a  poetic  mood  and  utter^ince  quite  unusual 
with  him,  for  he  was  a  jolly,  careless  kind  of  fellow,  well-mean- 
ing and  good-hearted. 

So  together  they  lifted  the  last  covering  of  the  dead,  laid  it 
over  him,  and  fastened  it  down.  And  there  was  darkness  about 
the  dead  ;  but  he  knew  it  not,  because  he  was  full  of  light.  Por 
this  man  was  one  who,  all  his  life,  had  striven  to  be  better. 

Meantime,  the  clergyman  having  arrived,  the  usual  r^  ^■ 
ceremonial  of  a  Scotcli  funeral — the  reading  of  the  "Wo* 
prayer — was  going  on  below.     This  was  all  that  gave  lie  Dunal 
any  sacred  solemnity  ;   for  at  the  grave  the  Scotch  terror  of 
Popery  forbids  any  observance  of  a  religious  cliaracter.      The 
voice  of  the  reader  was  heard  in  the  chamber  of  death. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  6 

"  The  minister's  come,  Thamas." 

"  Come  or  gang,"  said  Thomas,  "  it's  mucMe  the  same.  The 
word  itsel'  oot  o'  his  mou'  fa's  as  deid  as  chaif  upo'  clay. 
Honest  Jeames  there'll  rise  ance  mair  ;  but  never  a  word  that 
man  says,  wi'  the  croon  o'  's  heid  i'  the  how  o'  's  neck,  '11  rise 
to  beir  witness  o'  his  ministrations." 

"  Hoot,  Thamas !  It's  no  for  the  likes  o'  me  to  flee  i'  your 
face — but  jist  say  a  fair  word  for  the  livin'  ower  the  deid,  ye  ken." 

"  ]S"a,  na.  It's  fair  words  maks  foul  wark  ;  and  the  wrath 
o'  the  Almichty  maun  purge  this  toon  or  a'  be  dune.  There's 
a  heap  o'  graceless  gaeins  on  in't ;  and  that  puir  feckless  body, 
the  minister,  never  gies  a  pu'  at  the  bridle  o'  salvation,  to  hand 
them  aff  o'  the  scaur  (cliff)  o'  hell." 

The  stone-mason  generally  spoke  of  the  Almighty  as  if  he 
were  in  a  state  of  restrained  indignation  at  the  wrongs  he  en- 
dured from  his  children.  If  Thomas  was  right  in  this,  then 
certainly  he  himself  was  one  of  his  otFspring.  If  he  was  wrong, 
then  there  was  much  well  worth  his  unlearning. 

The  prayer  was  soon  over,  and  the  company  again  seated 
themselves,  waiting  till  the  coffin  should  be  placed  in  the  hearse, 
which  now  stood  at  the  door. 

"  We'll  jist  draw  the  cork  o'  anither  boatle,"  whispered  a 
sharp-faced  man  to  his  neighbour. 

And  rising,  he  opened  two  bottles,  and  filled  the  glasses  the 
second  time  with  wine,  red  and  white,  which  he  handed  to  the 
minister  first. 

"  Tak'  a  drappy  mair,  sir,"  he  whispered  in  a  coaxing,  old- 
wivish  tone  ;  "  it's  a  lang  road  to  the  kirkyard." 

But  the  minister  declining,  most  of  the  others  followed  his 
example.  One  after  another  they  withdrew  to  the  door,  where 
the  hearse  was  now  laden  with  the  harvest  of  the  grave. 

Falling  in  behind  the  body,  they  moved  in  an  irregular  pro- 
cession from  the  yard.  Outside,  they  were  joined  by  several 
more  in  gigs  aad  on  horseback ;  and  thus  they  crept,  a  curious 
train,  away  towards  the  resting-place  of  the  dead. 

It  were  a  dreary  rest,  indeed,  if  that  were  their  resting- 
place — on  the  side  of  a  low  hill,  without  tree  or  shrub  to  beau- 
tify it,  or  even  the  presence  of  an  old  church  to  seem  to  sanctify 
the  spot.  There  was  some  long  grass  in  it,  though,  clambering 
up-  ° 'uf  it- sought  to  bury  the  gravestones  in  their  turn.  And 
that:  ipng  grass  was  a  blessing.  Better  still,  there  was  a  sky 
overhdiav,  in  which  men  cannot  set  up  any  gravestones.  But  if 
any  graveyard  be  the  type  of  the  rest  expected  by  those  left 
behind,  it  is  no  wonder  they  shrink  from  joining  those  that  are 
away. 


CHAPTER  II. 

When  the  last  man  had  disappeared,  the  women,  like  those 
of  an  eastern  harem,  began  to  come  out.  The  first  that  entered 
the  deserted  room  was  a  hard-featured,  reproachful-looking 
woman,  the  sister  of  the  departed.  She  instantly  began  to  put 
the  place  in  order,  as  if  she  expected  her  turn  to  come  on  the 
morrow.  In  a  few  moments  more  a  servant  appeared,  and  be- 
gan to  assist  her.  The  girl  had  been  crying,  and  the  tears 
would  still  come,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  repress  them.  In 
the  vain  attempt  to  dry  her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron, 
she  nearly  dropped  one  of  the  chairs,  which  she  was  simultane- 
ously dusting  and  restoring  to  its  usual  place.  Her  mistress 
turned  upon  her  with  a  kind  of  cold  fierceness. 

"  Is  that  hoo  ye  shaw  yer  regaird  to  the  deid,  by  braekin' 
the  cheirs  he  left  ahin'  him  ?  Lat  sit,  an'  gang  an'  luik  for 
that  puir,  doited  thing,  Annie.  Grin  it  had  only  been  the 
Almichty's  will  to  hae  ta'en  her,  an'  left  him,  honest  man !  " 

"  Dinna  daur  to  say  a  word  again'  the  bairn,  mem.  The 
deid'll  hear  ye,  an'  no  lie  still." 

"  Supperstitious  quean !  Gang  an'  do  as  I  tell  ye  this 
minute.  What  business  hae  ye  to  gang  greetin  aboot  the 
boose  ?     He  was  no  drap's  bluid  o'  yours  !  " 

To  this  the  girl  made  no  reply,  but  left  the  room  in  quest 
of  Annie.  When  she  reached  the  door,  she  stood  for  a  moment 
on  the  threshold,  and,  putting  her  hand  over  her  eyes,  shouted 
"  Annie  !  "  But,  apparently  startled  at  the  sound  of  her  own 
voice  where  the  unheariug  dead  had  so  lately  passed,  she  let 
the  end  of  the  call  die  away  in  a  quaver,  and,  without  repeating 
it,  set  ofli"  to  find  the  missing  child  by  the  use  of  her  eyes  alone. 
First  she  went  into  the  barn,  and  then  through  the  barn  into 
the  stack-yard,  and  then  round  the  ricks  one  after  another,  and 
then  into  the  corn-loft ;  but  all  without  avail.  At  leugth,  as 
she  was  beginning  to  feel  rather  alarmed  about  the  child,  she 
arrived,  in  the  progress  of  her  search,  at  the  door  of  one  of  the 
cow-houses.  The  moment  she  looked  round  the  corner  into 
the  stall  next  the  door,  she  stood  stock-still,  with  her  mouth 
wide  open.  This  stall  was  occupied  by  a  favourite  cow — brown, 
with  large  white  spots,  called  therefore  Brownie.  Her  manger 
was  full  of  fresh-cut  grass  ;  and  half-buried  in  this  grass,  at  one 
end  of  the  manger,  with  her  back  against  the  wall,  sat  Annie, 
holding  one  of  the  ears  of  the  hornless  Brownie  with  one  hand 
and  stroking  the  creature's  nose  with  the  other. 


ALEC   FOKBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  0 

She  was  a  delicate  child,  about  nine  years  old,  with  blue 
eyes,  half-full  of  tears,  hair  somewhere  between  dark  and  fair, 
g:athered  in  a  silk  net,  and  a  pale  face,  on  which  a  faint  moon- 
like smile  was  glimmering.  The  old  cow  continued  to  hold  her 
nose  to  be  stroked. 

"  Is  na  Broouie  a  fine  coo,  Betty  ?  "  said  the  child,  as  the 
maid  went  on  staring  at  her.  "  Puir  Broonie !  Naebody 
mindit  me,  an'  sae  I  cam  to  you,  Broonie." 

And  she  laid  her  cheek,  white,  smooth,  and  thin,  against  the 
broad,  flat,  hairy  forehead  of  the  friendly  cow.  Then  turning 
again  to  Betty,  she  said — 

"  Dinna  tell  auntie  whaur  I  am,  Betty.  Lat  me  be.  I'm 
best  here  wi'  Broonie." 

Betty  said  never  a  word,  but  returned  to  her  mistress. 

"  Whaur's  the  bairn,  Bettv  ?  At  some  mischeef  or  ither, 
I'll  wad." 

"Hoot!  mem,  the  bairn's  weel  eneuch.  Bairns  maunna  be 
followed  like  carr  {calves).'" 

"  Whaur  is  she  ?  " 

"  I  canna  jist  doonricht  exackly  tak  upo'  me  to  say,"  an- 
swered Betty ;  "  but  I  ,hae  no  fear  aboot  her.  She's  a  wise 
bairn." 

"  Te're  no  the  lassie's  keeper,  Betty.  I  see  I  maun  seek 
her  mysel'.     Te're  aidin'  an'  abettin'  as  usual." 

So  saying.  Auntie  Meg  went  out  to  look  for  her  niece.  It 
was  some  time  before  the  natural  order  of  her  search  brought 
her  at  last  to  the  byre.  By  that  time  Annie  was  almost  asleep  in 
the  grass,  which  the  cow  was  gradually  pulling  away  from 
under  her.  Through  the  open  door  the  child  could  see  the 
sunlight  lying  heavy  upon  the  hot  stones  that  paved  the  yard  ; 
but  in  here  it  was  so  dark-shadowy  and  cool,  and  the  cow  was 
such  good,  kindly  company,  and  she  was  so  safe  hidden  from 
auntie,  as  she  thought — for  no  one  had  ever  found  her  there 
before,  and  she  knew  Betty  would  not  tell — that,  as  I  say,  she 
was  nearly  asleep  with  comfort,  half-buried  in  Brownie's  dinner. 

But  she  was  roused  all  at  once  to  a  sense  of  exposure  and 
insecurity.  She  looked  up,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  hawk- 
nose  of  her  aunt  came  round  the  door-cheek.  Auntie's  temper 
was  none  the  better  than  usual  that  it  had  pleased  the  AlmicJity 
to  take  the  brother  whom  she  loved,  and  to  leave  behind  the 
child  whom  she  regarded  as  a  painful  responsibility.  And  now 
with  her  small,  fierce  eyes,  and  her  big,  thin  nose — both  red 
with  suppressed  crying — she  did  not  dawn  upon  the  sense  of 
Annie  as  an  embodiment  of  the  maternity  of  the  universe. 

"  Ye  plaguesome  brat !  "  cried  Auntie  ;  "  there  has  Betty 


b  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

been  seekin'  ye,  and  I  hae  been  seekin'  ye,  far  an'  near,  i'  the 
verra  rottan-holes  ;  an'  here  ye  are,  on  yer  ain  father's  buryin' 
day,  that  comes  but  auce — takin'  up  wi'  a  coo." 

But  the  causes  of  Annie's  preference  of  the  society  of 
Brownie  to  that  of  Auntie  might  have  been  tolerably  clear  to 
an  onlooker,  without  word  spoken.  Tor  to  Annie  and  her 
needs,  notwithstanding  the  humble  four-footedness  of  Brownie, 
there  was  in  her  large  mild  eyes,  and  her-  hairy,  featureless 
face,  all  nose  and  no  nose,  more  of  the  divine  than  in  the  human 
form  of  Auntie  Meg.  And  there  was  something  of  an  indigna- 
tion quite  human  in  the  way  the  cow  tossed  her  bound  head 
and  neck  towards  the  woman  that  darkened  the  door,  as  if 
warning  her  off  her  premises.  But  without  a  word  of  reply, 
Annie  rose,  flung  her  arms  around  Brownie's  head,  kissed  the 
white  star  on  her  forehead,  disengaged  herself  from  the  grass, 
and  got  out  of  the  manger.  Auntie  seized  her  hand  with  a 
rough  action,  but  not  ungentle  grasp,  and  led  her  away  to  the 
house.     The  stones  felt  verv  hot  to  her  little  bare  feet. 


CHAPTER  III. 


By  this  time  the  funeral  was  approaching  the  churchyard  at 
a  more  rapid  pace  ;  for  the  pedestrians  had  dropped  away  one 
by  one,  on  diverging  roads,  or  had  stopped  and  retraced  their 
steps.  But  as  they  drew  near  the  place,  the  slow  trot  subsided 
into  a  slow  walk  once  moi*e.  To  an  English  eye  the  whole 
mode  would  have  appeared  barbarous.  But  if  the  carved  and 
gilded  skulls  and  cross-bones  on  the  hearse  were  ill-conceived, 
at  least  there  were  no  awful  nodding  plumes  to  make  death 
hideous  with  yet  more  of  cloudy  darkness ;  and  one  of  the 
panels  showed,  in  all  the  sunshine  that  golden  rays  could  yield, 
the  Resurrection  of  the  Lord — the  victory  over  the  grave. 
And,  again,  when  they  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  churchyard, 
they  were  the  hands  of  friends  and  neighbours,  and  not  those 
of  cormorant  undertakers  and  obscene  mutes,  that  bore  the 
dead  man  to  his  grave.  And,  once  more,  if  the  only  rite  they 
observed,  when  the  body  had  settled  into  its '  place  of  decay, 
was  the  silent  uncovering  of  the  head,  as  a  last  token  of  respect 
and  farewell,  it  may  be  suggested  that  the  Church  of  England 
herself,  in  all  her  beautiful  service,  has  no  prayer  for  the  de- 
parted soul,  which  cannot  be  beyond  the  need  of  prayer,  as  the 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  7 

longings  tliat  follow  it  into  the  region  of  the  Unknown,  are  not 
beyond  its  comfort. 

Before  the  grave  was  quite  filled  the  company  had  nearly 
gone.  Thomas  Crann,  the  stone-mason,  and  Greorge  Macwha, 
the  icriglit,  alone  remained  behind,  for  they  had  some  charge 
over  the  arrangements,  and  were  now  taking  a  share  in  covering 
the  grave.  At  length  the  last  sod  was  laid  upon  the  mound, 
and  stamped  into  its  place,  where  soon  the  earth's  broken  surface 
would  heal,  as  society  would  flow  together  again,  closing  over 
the  place  that  had  known  the  departed,  and  would  know  him  no 
more.  Then  Thomas  and  George  sat  down,  opposite  to  each 
other,  on  two  neighbouring  tombstones,  and  wiping  their  brows, 
gave  each  a  sigh  of  relief,  for  the  sun  was  hot  and  oppressive. 

"  Hech  !  it's  a  weary  warl,"  said  George. 

"Te  hae  no  richt  to  say  sae,  George,"  answered  Thomas, 
"  for  ye  hae  never  met  it,  an'  foughten  wi'  't.  Te  hae  never 
draan  the  soord  o'  the  Lord  and  o'  Gideon.  Te  hae  never 
broken  the  pitcher,  to  lat  the  lamp  shine  out,  an'  I  doubt  ye  hae 
emo'red  it  by  this  time.  And  sae,  whan  the  bridegroom  comes, 
ye'Ubeill-afffor  alicht." 

"  Hoot,  man !  dinna  speak  sic  awfu'  things  i'  the  verra  kirk- 
yard." 

"  Better  hear  them  i'  the  kirkyard  than  at  the  closed  door, 
George ! " 

"  Weel,  but,"  rejoined  Macwha,  anxious  to  turn  the  current 
of  the  conversation,  which  he  found  unpleasantly  personal,  "  jist 
tell  me  honestly,  Thamas  Crann,  do  ye  believe,  wi'  a'  yer  heart 
an'  sowl,  that  the  deid  man — Gude  be  wi'  him! — " 

"  No  prayin'  for  the  deid  i'  my  hearin',  George  !  As  the  tree 
falleth,  so  it  shall  lie." 

"  Weel !  weel !  I  didna  mean  onything." 

"  That  I  verily  believe.     Te  seldom  do  !  " 

"  But  I  jist  want  to  speir,"  resumed  George,  with  some 
asperity,  getting  rather  nettled  at  his  companion's  persistent 
discourtesy,  "  gin  ye  believe  that  Jeames  Anderson  here,  honest 
man,  aneath  our  feet,  crumblin'  awa',  as  ye  ken,  and  no  ae  spoke 
o'  his  wheel  to  the  fore,  or  lang,  to  tell  what  his  cart  was  like — 
do  ye  believe  that  his  honest  face  will,  ae  day,  pairt  the  mouls, 
an'  come  up  again,  jist  here,  i'  the  face  o'  the  light,  the  verra 
same  as  it  vanished  whan  we  pat  the  lid  ower  him  ?  Do  ye  be- 
lieve that,  Thamas  Crann  ?  " 

"Na,  na,  George,  man.  Te  ken  little  what  ye're  busiest 
sayin'.  It'll  be  a  glorifeed  body  that  he'll  rise  wi'.  It's  sown 
in  dishonour,  and  raised  in  glory.  Hoot !  hoot !  ye  are  ignor- 
ant, man ! " 


8  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

Macwha  got  more  nettled  still  at  his  tone  of  superiority. 

"  Wad  it  be  a  glorifeed  timmer-leg  he  rase  wi',  gin  he  had 
been  buried  wi'  a  timmer-leg  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  His  ain  leg  wad  be  buried  some  gait." 

"  Ow  ay !  nae  doubt.  An'  it  wad  come  happin'  ower  the 
Paceetic,  or  the  Atlantic,  to  jine  its  oreeginal  stump — wad  it  no? 
But  supposin'  the  man  had  been  born  wantiii'  a  leg — eh, 
Thamas  ?  " 

"George!  George!"  said  Thomas,  with  great  solemnity, 
"  luik  ye  efter  yer  sowl,  an'  the  Lord'ill  luik  after  yer  body, 
legs  an'  a' !  Man,  ye' re  no  couvertit,  an'  hoo  can  ye  unnerstan' 
the  things  o'  the  speerit  ?     Aye  jeerin',  an'  jeerin' !  " 

"  Weel !  weel !  Thamas,"  rejoined  Macwha,  mollified  in  per- 
ceiving that  he  had  not  had  altogether  the  worst  in  the  tilt  of 
words  ;  "  I  wad  only  tak'  the  leeberty  o'  thinkin'  that,  when  He 
was  aboot  it,  the  Almighty  micht  as  weel  mak'  a  new  body  a'the- 
gither,  as  gang  patchin'  up  the  auld  ane.     Sae  I  s'  awa  hame." 

"  Mind  ye  yer  immortal  pairt,  George,"  said  Thomas,  with  a 
final  thrust,  as  he  likewise  rose  to  go  home  with  him  on  the  box 
of  the  hearse. 

"  Gin  the  Lord  tak's  sic  guid  care  o'  the  body,  Thamas," 
retorted  Macwha,  with  less  of  irreverence  than  appeared  in  his 
words,  "  maybe  he  winna  objec'  to  gie  a  look  to  my  puir  soul  as 
weel ;  for  they  say  it's  worth  a  hantle  mair.  I  wish  he  wad,  for 
he  kens  better  nor  me  hoo  to  set  aboot  the  job." 

So  saying,  he  strode  briskly  over  the  graves  and  out  of  the 
churchyard,  leaving  Thomas  to  follow  as  fast  as  suited  his  un- 
wieldy strength. 


CHAPTEE  IV.  ]/ 

Meantime  another  conversation  was  going  on  in  one  of  the 
gigs,  as  it  bore  two  of  the  company  from  the  place  of  tombs, 
which  will  serve  a  little  for  the  purposes  of  tliia  history.  One 
of  the  twain  was  a  cousin  of  the  deceased,  already  incidentally 
mentioned  as  taking  some  direction  in  the  matter  of  refresh- 
ment. His  name  was  no  less  than  Robert  Bruce.  The  other  was 
called  Andrew  Constable,  and  was  a  worthy  elder  of  the  kirk. 

'■  Weel,  Robert,"  began  the  latter,  after  they  had  jogged  on 
in  silence  for  half  a  mile  or  so,  "  what's  to  be  done  wi'  little 
Annie  Anderson  and  her  Auntie  Meg,  noo  that  the  douce  man's 
gane  hame,  an'  left  them  thcroot,  as't  war  ?  " 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  9 

"  They  canna  hae  that  muckle  to  the  fore  efter  the  doctor  an' 
a'  's  sattled  for." 

"  It's  no  to  be  thought.  It's  lang  sin'  ever  he  wrought  a 
day's  darg  {contracted from  ^  dai/iverh^^.'" 

"  Jeames  Dow  luikit  weel  after  the  farmin',  though." 

"  N^ae  doot.  He's  a  guid  servant  that,  to  ony  man  he  ca's 
master.     But  there  canna  be  muckle  siller  to  the  fore." 

A  pause  followed. 

"  What  think  ye  noo,  Andrew  ? "  recommenced  Bruce. 
"  Te're  weel  kent  for  an  honest  an'  a  langheided  man.  Do  ye 
think  that  folk  wad  expec'  onything  o'  me  gin  the  warst  cam  to 
the  warst  ?  " 

"  AYeel,  Hobert,  I  dinna  think  there's  muckle  guid  in  luikin' 
to  what  fowk  micht  or  micht  not  expec'  o'  ye." 

"That's  jist  what  I  was  thiukin'  mysel'  ;  for,  ye  see,  I  hae 
a  sma'  family  o'  my  ain  to  baud  chowin'  already." 

"Nae  doot — nae  doot.     But — " 

"  Ay,  ay ;  I  ken  what  ye  wad  say.  I  maunna  a'thegitber 
disregaird  what  fowk  think,  'cause  there's  the  chop  (shop)  ;  an' 
gin  I  auce  got — no  to  say  an  ill  name,  but  jist  the  wind  o'  no 
being  sae  considerate  as  I  micht  hae  been,  there's  no  sayin'  but 
twa  cc  three  micht  gang  by  my  door,  and  across  to  Jamie  Mit- 
chell's yonner." 

"  Do  ye  what's  richt,  Eobert  Bruce,  and  sae  defy  fowk  and 
fairy." 

"  jNTa,  na,  that  winna  of/e  work.  A  body  maun  tak'  care  o' 
their  ain,  else  wha's  to  do't  ?  " 

""Weel,"  rejoined  Andrew  with  a  smile,  for  he  understood 
Bruce  well  enough,  although  he  pretended  to  have  mistaken  his 
meaning — "  weel,  gin  the  bairnie  falls  to  you,  nae  doot  ye  maun 
take  chairge  o'  her." 

"I  dinna  mean  Jeames  Anderson's  bairns — I  mean  my  ain 
bairns." 

"  Eobert,  whatever  way  ye  decide,  I  houp  it  may  be  sic  a 
deceesion  as  will  admit  o'  yer  castin'  yer  care  upo'  HimJ" 

"  I  ken  a'  aboot  that,  Andrew.  But  my  opeenion  upo'  that 
text  is  jist  this — that  ilka  vessel  has  to  baud  the  fill  o'  't,  and 
what  rins  ower  may  be  committed  to  Him,  for  ye  can  baud  it 
no  langer.  Them  that  winna  tak  tent  {care)  '11  tak  scathe. 
It's  a  sweer  Qazy)  thochtless  way  to  gang  to  the  Almichty  wi' 
ilka  fash.  AVhan  I'm  driven  to  ane  mair,  that  ane  sail  aye  be 
Him.    Te  min'  the  story  about  my  namesake  and  the  spidder  ?  " 

"  Ay,  weel  eneuch,"  answered  Andrew. 

But  he  did  not  proceed  to  remark  that  he  could  see  no  con- 
nection between  that  story  and  the  subject  in  hand,  for  Bruce's 


10  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEJf. 

question  did  not  take  him  by  surprise,  it  being  well  understood 
that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  making  all  possible  and  some  impos- 
sible references  to  his  great  namesake.  Indeed,  he  wished  every- 
body to  think,  though  he  seldom  ventured  to  assert  it  plainly, 
that  he  was  lineally  descended  from  the  king.  Nor  did  Andrew 
make  further  remark  of  any  sort  with  regard  to  the  fate  of 
Annie  or  the  duty  of  Bruce,  for  he  saw  that  his  companion 
wanted  no  advice — only  some  talk,  and  possibly  some  sympathy 
with  his  perplexity  as  to  what  the  world  might  think  of  him. 
But  with  this  perplexity  Andrew  could  accord  him  very  little 
sympathy  indeed ;  for  he  could  not  take  much  interest  in  the 
buttressing  of  a  reputation  which  he  knew  to  be  already  quite 
undermined  by  widelj^-reported  acts  of  petty  meanness  and 
selfishness.  Nor  was  this  fact  much  to  be  wondered  at,  if  his 
principles  were  really  those  which  he  had  so  openly  advocated. 
Indeed,  Andrew  knew  well  that  it  would  be  a  bad  day  for  poor 
Annie  when  she  came  under  Bruce's  roof,  and  therefore  sincerely 
hoped  that  Auntie  Meg  might  find  some  way  of  managing  so  as 
to  avoid  parting  with  the  child ;  for  he  knew,  too,  that,  though 
her  aunt  was  fierce  and  hard,  she  had  yet  a  warm  spot  some- 
where about  her  heart. 

Margaret  Anderson  had  known  perfectly  well  for  some  time 
that  she  and  Annie  must  part  before  long.  The  lease  of  the 
farm  would  expire  at  the  close  of  the  autumn  of  next  year ;  and 
as  it  had  been  rather  a  losing  afiair  for  some  time,  she  had  no 
inclination  to  request  a  renewal.  AVhen  her  brother's  debts 
should  be  paid,  there  would  not  remain,  even  after  the  sale  of 
the  stock,  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  For  herself, 
she  believed  she  must  go  into  service — which  would  hurt  her 
pride  more  than  it  would  alter  her  position,  for  her  hands  had 
done  far  more  of  the  necessary  labour  than  those  of  the  maid 
who  assisted  her.  Indeed,  in  her  proudest  mood,  she  would 
have  w^elcomed  death  rather  than  idleness.  AVhat  was  to  become 
of  Annie  she  did  not  yet  see. 

Meantime  there  remained  for  the  child  just  a  year  more  of 
the  native  farm,  with  all  the  varieties  of  life  which  had  been  so 
dear  to  her.  Auntie  Meg  did  not  spare  to  put  her  in  mind  of 
the  coming  change ;  but  it  seemed  to  Annie  so  long  in  coming 
that  it  never  would  come.  The  impression  was  worn  oiF  by  the 
daily  attempt  to  deepen  it,  she  gave  herself  up  to  the  childish 
pleasures  within  her  reach,  without  thinking  of  their  approach- 
ing loss. 


1] 


CHAPTER  V. 

AsD  why  should  Anuie  think  of  the  future?     The  future 
was  not :    the  present  was — and  full  of  delights.     If  she  did 
not  receive  much  tenderness  from  auntie,  at  least  she  was  not 
afraid  of  her.     The  pungency  of  her  temper  was  but  as  the  salt 
and  vinegar  which  brought  out  the  true  flavour  of  the  other 
numberless  pleasures  around  her.     Were  her  excursions  far  a- 
lield,  perched  aloft  on  Dowie's  shoulder,  and  holding  on  by  the 
top  of  his  head,  or  clinging  to  his  back  with  her  arms  round  his 
neck,  at  all  the  less  delightful  that  auntie  was  scolding  at  home  ? 
They  would  have  been  less  delightful  if  she  had  thought  of  the 
future  ;  but  she  thought  only  of  the  present  joy  ;  or  rather  she 
took  it  as  it  came,  and  let  it  play  upon  her,  without  thinking 
about  it  at  all.     And  if  she  was  late  for  one  of  her  meals,  for 
Annie  had  no  very  correct  sense  of  the  lapse  of  time,  and  auntie 
had  declared  she  should  go  fasting,  it  was  yet  not  without  her 
connivance  that  rosy-faced  Betty  got  the  child  the  best  of  every- 
thing that  was  at  hand,  and  put  cream  in  her  milk,  and  butter 
on  her  oat  cake,  Annie  managing  to  consume  everything  with 
satisfaction,  notwithstanding  the  hurdy-gurdy  accompaniment 
of  her    aunt's   audible  reflections.     And  Brownie  was  always 
friendly  ;  ever  ready  on  any  serious  emergency,  when  auntie's 
temper  was  still  less  placid  than  usual,  to  yield  a  corner  of  her 
manger  for  a  refuge  to  the  child.     And  the  cocks  and  hens, 
even  the  peacock  and  the  turkey-cock,  knew  her  perfectly,  and 
would  come  when  she  called  them,  if  not  altogether  out  of  aff"ec- 
tion  for  her,  at  least  out  of  hope  in  her  bounty ;  and  she  had 
not  yet  arrived  at  the  painful  "« isdom  of  beginning  to  question 
motives— a  wisdom  which  misleads  more  than  it  guides.     She 
loved  them,  and  that  was  enough  for  her.     And  she  would  ride 
the  horses  to  water,  sitting  sideways  on  their  broad  backs  like 
a  barefooted  lady ;  for  Dowie  had  such  respect  for  his  little 
mistress,  as  he  called  her,  that  he  would  never  let  her  get  astride 
"  like  a  laddie,"  however  much  she  wanted  to  do  so.     And  when 
the  morning  was  wet,  and  the  sound  of  the  flails  came  to  her 
from  the  barn,  she  would  watch  for  the  moment  when  her  aunt's 
back  wotdd  be  turned,  and  then  scurry  across  the  yard,  like  a 
mouse  to  its  hole ;  for  auntie's  first  impulse  was  always  to  op- 
pose whatever   Annie  desired.     Once  in  the  barn,  she  would 
bury  herself  like  a  mole  in  the  straw,  and  listen  to  the  unfailing 
metronome  of  the  flails,  till  she  would  fall  so  fast  asleep  as  to 
awake  only  when  her  uncomfortable  aunt,  believing  that  at  last 


12  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

the  awful  something  or  other  liad  happened  to  the  royt  lassie, 
dragged  her  out  ignominiously  by  the  heels.  But  the  royt  lassie 
was  one  of  the  gentlest  of  girls,  what  adventurousness  she  had 
being  the  result  of  faith,  and  not  of  hardihood. 

And  then  came  the  delights  of  the  harvest-field — soon  to 
become  great  golden  splendours  to  the  memory.  With  the 
reapers  she  would  remain  from  morning  till  night,  sharing  in 
their  meals,  and  lightening  their  labour  with  her  gentle  frolic. 
Every  day,  after  the  noon-tide  meal,  she  would  go  to  sleep  on 
the  shady  side  of  a  sfook,  upon  two  or  three  sheaves  which 
Dowie  would  lay  down  for  her  in  a  choice  spot.  Indeed  tho 
little  mistress  was  very  fond  of  sleep,  and  would  go  to  sleep 
anywhere ;  this  habit  being  indeed  one  of  her  aunt's  chief 
grounds  of  complaint.  For  before  hay-time,  for  instance,  when 
the  grass  was  long  in  the  fields,  if  she  came  upon  any  place  that 
took  her  fancy,  she  would  tumble  down  at  once,  and  show  that 
she  loved  it  by  going  to  sleep  upon  it.  Then  it  was  no  easy 
task  to  find  her  amidst  the  long  grass  that  closed  over  her,  as 
over  a  bird  in  its  nest.  But  the  fact  was,  this  habit  indicated  a 
feebleness  of  constitution,  to  which  sleep  itself  was  the  best  re- 
storative. And  in  the  harvest-field,  at  least,  no  harm  could  come 
of  it ;  for  Dooie,  as  she  always  called  him,  watched  her  like  a 
mother ;  so  that  sometimes  when  she  awoke,  she  would  find  a 
second  stook  of  ten  sheaves,  with  a  high-uplifted  crowning  pair 
above,  built  at  right  angles  to  the  first,  to  shelter  her  from  the 
sun  which  had  peered  round  the  corner,  and  would  soon  have 
stared  her  awake. 

The  only  discomfort  of  the  harvest-field  was,  that  the  sharp 
stubble  forced  her  to  wear  shoes.  But  when  the  corn  had  all 
been  carried  home,  and  the  potatoes  had  been  dug  up  and 
heaped  in  warm  pits  against  the  winter,  and  the  mornings  and 
evenings  grew  cold,  and,  though  still  friendly  to  strong  men  and 
women,  were  rather  too  keen  for  delicate  little  Annie — slie  had 
to  put  on  both  shoes  and  stockings,  which  she  did  not  like  at  all. 

So  with  "  gentle  gliding,"  through  a  whole  winter  of  ice  and 
snow,  through  a  whole  spring  of  promises  tardily  fulfilled, 
through  a  summer  of  glory,  and  another  autumn  of  harvest  joy, 
the  day  drew  on  when  tliey  must  leave  the  farm.  And  still  to 
Annie  it  seemed  as  far  ofi"  as  ever. 


13 


CHAPTEE  VI. 

Oke  lovely  evening  in  October,  when  the  shadows  were 
falling  from  the  western  sun,  and  the  light  tliat  made  them  was 
as  yellow  as  a  marigold,  and  a  keen  little  wind  was  just  getting 
ready  to  come  out  and  blow  the  moment  the  sun  would  be  out 
of  sight,  Annie,  who  was  helping  to  fasten  up  the  cows  for  the 
night,  drawing  iron  chains  round  their  soft  necks,  saw  a  long 
shadow  coming  in  at  the  narrow  entrance  of  the  yard.  It  came 
in  and  in  ;  and  was  so  long  in  coming  in,  that  she  began  to  feel 
as  if  it  was  something  not  quite  cannie,  and  to  fancy  herself 
frightened.  But,  at  length,  she  found  that  the  cause  of  the 
great  shadow  was  only  a  little  man ;  and  that  this  little  man 
was  no  other  than  her  father's  cousin,  Robert  Bruce.  Alas ! 
how  little  a  man  may  cast  a  great  shadow  ! 

He  came  up  to  Annie,  and  addressed  her  in  the  smoothest 
voice  he  could  find,  fumbling  at  the  same  time  in  his  coat-pocket. 

"  Hoo  are  ye  the  nicht,  dawtie  ?  Are  ye  verra  weel  ?  An' 
hoo's  yer  auntie  ?  " 

He  waited  for  no  reply  to  any  of  these  questions,  but  went  on. 

"  See  what  I  hae  brocht  ye  frae  the  chop." 

So  saying,  he  put  into  her  hand  about  half-a-dozen  sweeties, 
screwed  up  in  a  bit  of  paper.  AVith  this  gift  he  left  her,  and 
walked  on  to  the  open  door  of  the  house,  which,  as  a  cousin,  he 
considered  himself  privileged  to  enter  unannounced  even  by  a 
knock.  He  found  the  mistress  of  it  in  the  kitchen,  superin- 
tending the  cooking  of  the  supper. 

"  Hoo  are  ye  the  nicht,  Marget  ?  "  he  said,  still  in  a  tone  of 
concLliatory  smoothness,  through  which,  however,  he  could  not 
prevent  a  certain  hardness  from  cropping  out  plentifully.  "  Te're 
busy  as  usual,  I  see.  Weel,  the  hand  o'  the  diligent  maketh 
rich,  ye  ken." 

"  That  portion  o'  the  Word  maun  be  o'  leemited  application, 
I  doot,"  returned  Marget,  as,  withdrawing  her  hand  from  her 
cousin's,  she  turned  again  to  the  pot  hanging  over  the  fire.  "  No 
man  daurs  to  say  that  my  han'  has  not  been  the  han'  o'  the 
diligent ;  but  Guid  kens  I'm  nane  the  richer." 

"  We  maunna  repine,  Marget.  Eicht  or  wrang,  it's  the 
Lord's  will." 

"  It's  easy  to  you,  Eobert  Bruce,  wi'  yer  siller  i'  the  bank, 
to  speik  that  gait  til  a  puir  lone  body  like  me,  that  maun  slave 
for  my  bread  whan  I'm  no  sae  young  as  I  micht  be.  No  that 
I'm  like  to  dee  o'  auld  age  either." 


14  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

"  I  haena  sae  muckle  i'  the  bank  aa  some  folk  may  think ; 
though  what  there  is  is  safe  eneuch.  But  I  hae  a  bonny  busi- 
ness doun  yonner,  and  it  micht  be  better  yet.  It's  jist  the  land 
o'  Groshen,  only  it  wants  a  wheen  mair  tap-dressin'." 

"  Tak  it  frae  the  bank,  than,  Eobert," 

"  The  bank  !  said  ye,  Marget  ?     I  canna  do  that." 

"  And  what  for  no  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I'm  jist  like  the  hens,  Marget.  Grin  they  dinna  see 
ae  egg  i'  the  nest,  they  hae  no  hert  to  lay  anither.  I  daurna 
meddle  wi'  the  bank." 

"  Weel,  lat  sit  than ;  an'  lay  awa'  at  yer  leisur'.  Hoo's  the 
mistress  ?  " 

"  No  that  weel,  and  no  that  ill.  The  faimily's  rather  sair 
upo'  her.  But  I  canna  baud  her  oot  o'  the  chop  for  a'  that. 
She's  like  mysel' — she  wad  aye  be  turnin'  a  bawbee.  But  what 
are  ye  gaein  to  do  yersel',  Marget  ?  " 

"  I'm  gaein  to  my  uncle  and  aunt — auld  John  Peterson  and 
his  wife.  They're  gey  and  frail  noo,  and  they  want  somebody 
to  luik  efter  them." 

"  Than  ye're  weel  provided  for  ;  Praise  be  thankit !  Marget." 

"  Ow,  ay  ;  nae  doot,"  replied  Marget,  with  bitterness,  of 
which  Bruce  took  no  notice. 

"  And  what's  to  come  o'  the  bairnie  ?  "  pursued  he. 

"  I  maun  jist  get  some  dacent  auld  body  i'  the  toon  to  tak' 
her  in,  and  lat  her  gang  to  the  schuil.  It's  time.  The  auld 
fowk  wadna  pit  up  wi'  her  a  week." 

"  And  what'll  that  cost  ye,  Marget  ?  " 

"  I  dinna  ken.  But  the  lassie's  able  to  pay  for  her  ain  up- 
bringin'." 

"  It's  no  far  'at  a  hunner  and  fifty'll  gang  i'  thae  times,  wo- 
man. An'  it's  a  pity  to  tak  frae  the  prencipal.  She'll  be  mer- 
ryin'  some  day." 

"  Ow,  'deed,  maybe.     Bairns  will  be  fules." 

"  Weel,  cud  na  ye  pit  it  oot  at  five  per  cent.,  and  there  wad 
aye  be  something  comin'  o'  't  ?  That  wad  be  seven  pun  ten  i' 
the  year,  an'  the  bairnie  micht  amaist — no  freely  but  nigh-han' 
— be  broucht  up  upo'  that." 

Margaret  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  him. 

"  An'  wha  wad  gie  five  per  cent,  for  her  bit  siller,  whan  he 
can  get  it  frae  the  bank,  on  guid  security,  for  four  an'  a 
half?" 

"  Jist  mysel',  Marget.  The  puir  orphan  has  naebody  but 
you  and  me  to  luik  till ;  an'  I  wad  willin'ly  do  that  muckle  for 
her,  I'll  tell  ye  what — I'll  gie  her  five  per  cent,  for  her  siller  ; 
and  for  the  bit  interest,  I'll  tak  her  in  wi'  my  ain  bairns,  an' 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  15 

she  s'  hae  bit  and  sup  wi'  them,  an'  gang  to  the  school  wi' 
them,  and  syne — after  a  bit— we'll  see  what  comes  neist." 

To  Margaret  this  seemed  a  very  fair  oft'er.  It  was  known  to 
all  that  the  Bruce  children  were  well-enough  dressed  for  their 
station,  and  looked  well-fed  ;  and  altliough  Kobert  had  the  cha- 
racter of  being  somewhat  mean,  she  did  not  regard  that  as  the 
worst  possible  fault,  or  one  likely  to  operate  for  the  injury  of 
the  child.  So  she  told  her  cousin  that  she  would  think  about 
it ;  which  was  quite  as  much  as  he  could  have  expected.  He 
took  his  leave  all  but  satisfied  that  he  had  carried  his  point,  and 
not  a  little  uplifted  with  his  prospects. 

For  was  it  not  a  point  worth  carrying — to  get  both  the 
money  and  the  owner  of  it  into  his  own  hands  ?  Not  that  he 
meant  conscious  dishonesty  to  Annie.  He  only  rejoiced  to 
think  that  he  would  thus  satisfy  any  expectations  that  the  pub- 
lic might  have  formed  of  him,  and  would  enjoy  besides  a  splendid 
increase  of  capital  for  his  business ;  while  he  hoped  to  keep  the 
girl  upon  less  than  the  interest  would  come  to.  And  then,  if 
anything  should  happen  to  her — seeing  she  was  not  over  vigor- 
ous— the  result  was  worth  waiting  for ;  whereas — if  she  throve 
— he  had  sons  growing  up,  one  of  whom  might  take  a  fancy  to 
the  heiress,  and  would  have  facilities  for  marrying  her,  .&e.  &c.  ; 
for  Grocer  Robert  was  as  deep  in  his  foresight  and  scheming  as 
King  Eobert,  the  crowning  triumph  of  whose  intellect,  in  the 
eyes  of  his  descendant,  was  the  strewing  of  the  caltrops  on  the 
field  of  Bannockburn. 

But  James  Dow  was  ill-pleased -^hen  he  heard  of  the  arrange- 
ment— which  was  completed  in  due  time.  "For,"  said  he,  "I 
canna  bide  that  Bruce.  He'sanaisty  meancratur.  He  wadna  fling 
a  bane  till  a  dog,  afore  he  had  ta'en  a  pyke  at  it  himsel'."  He 
agreed,  however,  with  his  mistress,  that  it  would  be  better  to 
keep  Annie  in  ignorance  of  her  destiny  as  long  as  possible ;  a 
consideration  which  sprung  from  the  fact  that  her  aunt,  now 
that  she  was  on  the  eve  of  parting  with  her,  felt  a  little  delicate 
growth  of  tenderness  sprouting  over  the  old  stone  wall  of  her 
affection  for  the  child,  owing  its  birth,  in  part,  to  the  doubt 
whether  she  would  be  comfortable  in  her  new  home. 


16 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

A  DAT  that  is  fifty  years  off  comes  as  certainly  as  if  it  had 
been  in  the  next  week ;  and  Annie's  feeling  of  infinite  duration 
did  not  stop  the  sand-glass  of  Old  Time.  The  day  arrived  when 
everything  was  to  be  sold  by  public  roup.  A  great  company  of 
friends,  neighbours,  and  acquaintances  gathered ;  and  much 
drinking  of  whisky-punch  went  on  in  the  kitchen  as  well  as  in 
the  room  where,  a  few  months  before,  the  solemn  funeral-as- 
sembly had  met. 

Little  Annie  speedily  understood  what  all  the  bustle  meant : 
that  the  day  of  desolation  so  long  foretold  by  the  Cassandra- 
croak  of  her  aunt,  had  at  length  actually  arrived,  and  that  all 
the  things  she  knew  so  well  were  vanishing  from  her  sight  for 
ever. 

She  was  in  the  barn  when  the  sound  of  the  auctioneer's  voice 
in  the  corn-yard  made  her  look  over  the  half-door  and  listen. 
Grradually  the  truth  dawned  upon  her ;  and  she  burst  into  tears 
over  an  old  rake  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to  call  hers, 
because  she  had  always  dragged  it  at  hay-making.  Then  wiping 
her  eyes  hastily — for,  partly  from  her  aunt's  hardness,  she  never 
could  bear  to  be  seen  crying,  even  when  a  child — she  fled  to 
Brownie's  stall,  and  burying  herself  in  the  manger,  began  weep- 
ing afresh.  After  a  while,  the  fountain  of  tears  was  for  the  time 
exhausted,  and  she  sat  disconsolately  gazing  at  the  old  cow  feed- 
ing away,  as  if  food  were  everything  and  a  roup  nothing  at  all, 
when  footsteps  approached  the  hyre,  and,  to  her  dismay,  two 
men,  whom  she  did  not  know,  came  in,  untied  Brownie,  and 
actually  led  her  away  from  before  her  eyes.  She  still  stared  at 
the  empty  space  where  Brownie  had  stood, — stared  like  a  crea- 
ture stranded  by  night  on  the  low  coast  of  Death,  before  whose 
eyes  in  the  morning  the  sea  of  Life  is  visibly  ebbing  away.  At 
last  she  started  up.  How  could  she  sit  there  without  Brownie! 
Sobbing  so  that  she  could  not  breathe,  she  rushed  across  the 
yard,  into  the  crowded  and  desecrated  house,  and  up  the  stair  to 
her  own  little  room,  where  she  threw  herself  on  the  bed,  buried 
her  eyes  in  the  pillow,  and,  overcome  with  grief,  fell  fast  asleep. 

When  she  woke  in  the  morning,  she  remembered  notliiug  of 
Betty's  undressing  and  putting  her  to  bed.  The  dreadful  day 
that  was  gone  seemed  only  a  dreadful  dream,  that  had  left  a 
pain  behind  it.  Jiut  when  she  went  out,  slie  found  that  yester- 
day would  not  stay  amongst  her  dreams.  Brownie's  stall  waa 
empty.  The  horses  were  all  gone,  and  many  of  the  cattle.    Those 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  17 

:hat  remained  looked  like  creatures  forgotten.  The  pigs  were 
^one,  and  most  of  the  poultry.  Two  or  three  favourite  hens 
ivere  left,  which  auntie  was  going  to  take  with  her.  But  of  all 
;he  living  creatures  she  had  loved,  not  one  had  been  kept  for 
A.nnie.     Her  life  grew  bitter  with  the  bitterness  of  death. 

In  the  afternoon,  her  aunt  came  up  to  her  room,  where  she 
iat  in  tearful  silence,  and  telling  her  tliat  she  was  going  to  take 
ler  into  the  town,  proceeded,  without  further  explanation,  to 
5ut  all  her  little  personal  eft'ects  into  an  old  hair-trunk,  which 
Innie  called  her  own.  Along  with  some  trifles  that  lay  about 
;he  room,  she  threw  into  the  bottom  of  the  box  about  a  dozen 
)f  old  books,  which  had  been  on  the  chest  of  drawers  since  long 
before  Annie  could  remember.  She,  poor  child,  let  her  do  as 
she  pleased,  and  asked  no  questions  ;  for  the  shadow  in  which 
she  stood  was  darkening,  and  she  did  not  cai-e  what  came  next. 
For  an  hour  the  box  stood  on  the  floor  like  a  coffin,  and  then 
Bett^y  came,  with  red  eyes  and  a  red  nose,  and  carried  it  dovvn- 
itairs.  Then  auntie  came  up  again,  dressed  in  her  Sunday 
ilothes.  She  put  on  Annie's  best  frock  and  bonnet — adorning 
;he  victim  for  sacrifice— at  least,  so  Annie's  face  would  have 
uggested — and  led  her  down  to  the  door.  There  stood  a  horse 
ind  cart.  In  the  cart  was  some  straw,  and  a  sack  stuffed  with 
lay.  As  auntie  was  getting  into  the  cart,  Betty  rushed  out 
"rom  somewhere  upon  Annie,  caught  her  up,  kissed  her  in  a 
'ehement  and  disorderly  manner,  and  before  her  mistress  could 
;urn  round  in  the  cart,  gave  her  into  James  Dow's  arms,  and 
■anished  with  strange  sounds  of  choking.  Dowie  thought  to 
)ut  her  in  with  a  kiss,  for  he  dared  not  speak  ;  but  Annie's  arms 
vent  round  his  neck,  and  she  clung  to  him  sobbing — clung  till 
ihe  roused  the  indignation  of  auntie,  at  the  first  sound  of  whose 
'oice,  Dowie  was  free,  and  Annie  lying  in  the  cart,  with  her  face 
)uried  in  the  straw.  Dowie  then  mounted  in  front,  with  his 
eet  on  the  shaft ;  the  horse — one  Annie  did  not  know — started 
)ff"  gently ;  and  she  was  borne  away  helpless  to  meet  the  un- 
Lnown. 

And  the  road  was  like  the  going.  She  had  often  been  upon 
t  before,  but  it  had  never  looked  as  it  did  now.  The  first  half- 
nile  went  through  fields  whose  crops  were  gone.  The  stubble 
vas  sticking  through  the  grass,  and  the  potato  stalks,  which 
)ught  to  have  been  gathered  and  burnt,  lay  scattered  about  all 
)ver  the  brown  earth.  Then  came  two  miles  of  moorland  coun- 
try, high,  and  bleak,  and  barren,  with  hillocks  of  peat  in  all 
lirections,  standing  beside  the  black  holes  whence  they  had  been 
lug.  These  holes  were  full  of  dark  Avater,  frightful  to  look  at ; 
vhile  along  the  side  of  the  road  went  deep  black  ditches  half- 

2 


18  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

full  of  the  same  dark  water.  There  was  no  danger  of  the  cart 
getting  into  them,  for  the  ruts  were  too  deep  to  let  the  wheels 
out ;  but  it  jolted  so  dreadfully  from  side  to  side,  as  it  crawled 
along,  that  Annie  was  afraid  every  other  moment  of  being  tilted 
into  one  of  the  frightful  pools.  Across  the  waste  floated  now 
and  then  the  cry  of  a  bird,  but  other  sound  there  was  none  in 
this  land  of  drearihead.  Next  came  some  scattered  and  ragged 
fields,  tlie  skirts  of  cultivation,  which  seemed  to  draw  closer  and 
closer  together,  while  the  soil  grew  richer  and  more  hopeful,  till, 
after  two  miles  more,  they  entered  the  first  straggling  precincts 
of  the  grey  market-town. 

By  this  time  the  stars  were  shining  clear  in  the  cold,  frosty 
sky,  and  candles  or  train-oil  lamps  were  burning  in  most  of  the 
houses  ;  for  all  these  tilings  took  place  long  before  gas  had  been 
heard  of  in  those  quarters.  A  few  faces  were  pressed  close  to 
the  window-panes  as  the  cart  passed ;  and  some  rather  untidy 
women  came  to  the  house-doors  to  look.  And  they  spoke  one  to 
another  words  which,  though  inaudible  through  the  noise  of  the 
cart,  were  yet  intelligible  enough  to  Annie,  with  her  own  fore- 
bodings to  interpret  the  expression  of  their  faces. 

"  That'll  be  little  Annie  Anderson,"  they  said.  "  She's  gaein 
bame  to  bide  wi'  her  cousin,  Robert  Bruce,  up  i'  the  Wast 
Wynd.     Puir  wee  lassie  !  " 

For,  on  the  way,  Annie  had  been  informed  of  her  destina- 
tion. 

But  she  was  too  miserable  already,  because  of  leaving  her  old 
home,  to  care  much  to  what  new  one  she  was  going.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  absorption  of  this  grief,  she  could  not  have  been 
indifferent  to  the  prospect  of  going  to  live  with  her  cousin, 
although  her  dislike  to  him  had  never  assumed  a  more  active 
form  than  that  of  wishing  to  get  away  from  him,  as  often  as  he 
came  near  her. 

The  cart  stopped  at  Bruce's  shop-door.  It  looked  a  heavy 
door,  although  the  upper  half  was  of  glass — in  small  panes. 
Dowie  got  down  and  went  into  the  shop ;  and  before  he  re- 
turned Annie  had  time  to  make  some  listless  observations. 
The  house  was  a  low  one,  although  of  two  stories,  built  of  grey 
stone,  and  thatched.  The  heavy  door  was  between  two  windows 
belonging  to  the  shop,  in  each  of  which  burned  a  single  tallow- 
candle,  revealing  to  the  gaze  of  Annie,  in  all  the  enhancing  mys- 
tery of  candleliglit,  what  she  could  not  but  regard  as  a  perfect 
mine  of  treasures.  For  besides  calico  and  sugar,  and  all  the 
multifarious  stock  in  the  combined  trades  of  draper  and  grocer, 
Eobert  Bruce  sold  penny  toys,  and  halfpenny  picture-books, 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  19 

and  all  kinds  of  confectionery  which  had  been  as  yet  revealed 
to  the  belated  generations  of  Glamerton. 

But  she  had  not  to  contemplate  these  wonders  long  from  the 
outside ;  for  Bruce  came  to  the  door,  and,  having  greeted  his 
cousin  and  helped  her  down,  turned  to  take  Annie.  Dowie  had 
been  before  him,  however,  and  now  held  the  pale  child  silent  in 
his  arms.  He  carried  her  into  the  shop,  and  set  her  down  on  a 
sack  that  stood  outside  the  counter,  leaniug  against  it.  He  then 
went  back  to  his  horse's  head. 

The  sack  made  no  bad  seat,  for  it  was  half-full  of  turnip- 
seed  ;  and  upon  it  Annie  sat,  and  drearily  surveyed  the  circum- 
stances. 

Auntie  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  shop.  Bruce  was 
holding  the  counter  open,  and  inviting  her  to  enter. 

"  Te'll  come  in  and  tak  a  cup  o'  tay,  efter  yer  journey,  Mar- 
get  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Na,  I  thank  ye,  Eobert  Bruce.  Jeames  and  I  maun  jist 
turn  and  gae  hame  again.  There's  a  hantle  to  look  efter  yet, 
and  we  maunna  neglec'  oor  wark.  The  hoose-gear's  a'  to  be 
roupit  the  morn." 

Then  turning  to  Annie,  she  said  : 

"  Noo,  Annie,  lass,  yell  be  a  guid  bairn,  and  do  as  ye're 
tell't.     An'  min'  and  no  pyke  the  things  i'  the  chop." 

A  smile  of  peculiar  import  glimmered  over  Bruce's  face  at 
the  sound  of  this  injunction.  Annie  made  no  reply,  but  stared 
at  Mr  Bruce,  and  sat  staring. 

"  Grood-bye  to  ye,  Annie  !  "  said  her  aunt,  and  roused  her  a 
little  from  her  stupor. 

She  then  gave  her  a  kiss — the  first,  as  far  as  the  child  knew, 
that  she  had  ever  given  her — and  went  out.  Bruce  followed 
her  out,  and  Dowie  came  in.  He  took  her  up  in  his  arms,  and 
said  : 

"  Good-bye  to  ye,  my  bonnie  bairn.  Be  a  guid  lass,  and 
ye'll  be  ta'en  care  o'.  Dinna  forget  that.  Min'  and  say  yer 
prayers." 

Annie  kissed  him  with  all  her  heart,  but  could  not  reply. 
He  set  her  down  again,  and  went  out.  She  heard  the  harness 
rattle,  and  the  cart  go  ofl:'.     She  was  left  sitting  on  the  sack. 

Presently  Mr  Bruce  came  in,  and  passing  behind  his  coimter, 
proceeded  to  make  an  entry  in  a  book.  It  could  have  been  no 
order  from  poor,  homeless  Margaret.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  memor- 
andum of  the  day  and  the  hour  when  Annie  was  set  down  on 
that  same  sack — so  methodical  was  he  !  And  yet  it  was  some 
time  before  he  seemed  to  awake  to  the  remembrance  of  the  pre- 
sence of  the  child.     Looking  up  suddenly  at  the  pale,  weary 


20  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

thing,  as  she  sat  witli  ber  legs  lianging  lifelessly  down  the  side 
of  the  sack,  he  said — pretending  to  have  forgotten  her — 

"  Ow,  bairn,  are  ye  there  yet  ?  " 

And  going  round  to  her,  he  set  her  on  the  floor,  and  leading 
her  by  the  hand  through  the  mysterious  gate  of  the  counter, 
and  through  a  door  behind  it,  called  in  a  sharp  decided  tone : 

"  Mother,  ye're  wanted !  " 

Thereupon  a  tall,  thin,  anxious-looking  woman  appeared, 
wiping  her  hands  in  her  apron. 

"  This  is  little  Miss  Anderson,"  said  Bruce,  "  come  to  bide 
wi's.     Grie  her  a  biscuit,  and  tak'  her  up  the  stair  till  her  bed." 

As  it  was  the  first,  so  it  was  the  last  time  he  called  her  Miss 
Andei'son,  at  least  while  she  was  one  of  his  household. — Mrs 
Bruce  took  Annie  by  the  hand  in  silence,  and  led  her  up  two 
narrow  stairs,  into  a  small  room  with  a  skylight.  There,  by  the 
shine  of  the  far-off  stars,  she  nndressed  her.  But  she  forgot 
the  biscuit ;  and,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Annie  went  sup- 
perless  to  bed. 

She  lay  for  a  while  trying  to  fancy  herself  in  Brownie's  stall 
among  the  grass  and  clover,  and  so  get  rid  of  the  vague  fear 
she  felt  at  being  in  a  strange  place  without  light,  for  she  found 
it  unpleasant  not  to  know  what  was  next  her  in  the  dark.  But 
the  fate  of  Brownie  and  of  everything  she  had  loved  came  back 
upon  her ;  and  the  sorrow  drove  away  the  fear,  and  she  cried 
till  she  could  cry  no  longer,  and  then  she  slept.  It  is  by 
means  of  sorrow,  sometimes,  that  He  gives  his  beloved  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


She  woke  early,  rose,  and  dressed  herself.  But  there  was 
no  water  for  her  to  wash  with,  and  she  crept  down-stairs  to 
look  for  help  in  this  her  first  need.  Nobody,  however,  was 
awake.  She  looked  long  and  wistfidly  at  the  house-door,  but 
seeing  that  she  could  not  open  it,  she  went  back  to  her  room. 
If  she  had  been  at  home,  she  would  soon  have  had  a  joyous 
good-morrow  from  tl;e  burst  of  fresh  wind  meeting  ])er  as  slie 
lifted  the  ready  latcii,  to  seek  the  companionship  of  yet  earlier 
risers  than  lierself ;  but  now  she  was  as  lonely  as  if  she  had 
anticipated  tlie  hoiu'  of  the  resurrection,  and  was  the  little  only 
one  up  of  the  buried  millions.  All  that  she  had  left  of  that 
home  was  her  box,  and  she  would  have  betaken  herself  to  a 


•    ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN,  21 

desolate  brooding  over  its  contents ;  but  it  had  not  been 
brought  up,  and  neither  could  she  carry  it  up  herself,  nor 
would  she  open  it  in  the  kitchen  where  it  stood.  So  she  sat 
down  on  the  side  of  her  bed,  and  gazed  round  the  room.  It 
was  a  cheerless  room.  At  home  she  had  had  chequered  curtains 
to  her  bed :  here  there  were  none  of  any  kind ;  and  her  eyes 
rested  on  nothing  but  bare  rafters  and  boards.  And  there 
were  holes  in  the  roof  and  round  the  floor,  wliich  she  did  not 
like.  They  were  not  large,  but  they  were  dreadful.  For  they 
were  black,  nor  did  she  know  where  they  might  go  to.  And 
she  grew  very  cold. 

At  length  she  heard  some  noise  in  the  house,  and  in  her 
present  mood  any  human  noise  was  a  sound  of  deliverance.  It 
grew;  was  presently  enriched  by  the  admixture  of  baby-screams, 
and  the  sound  of  the  shop-shutters  being  taken  down  ;  and  at 
last  footsteps  approached  her  door.  Mrs  Bruce  entered,  and 
finding  her  sitting  dressed  on  her  bed,  exclaimed : 

"  Ow  !  ye  can  dress  yersel !  can  ye  ?  " 

"Ay,  weel  that,"  answered  Annie,  as  cheerily  as  she  could. 
-"  But,"  she  added,  "  I  want  some  water  to  wash  mysel'  wi'." 

"  Come  doon  to  the  pump,  than,"  said  ISIrs  Bruce. 

Annie  followed  her  to  the  pump,  where  she  washed  in  a 
tub.  She  then  ran  dripping  into  the  house  for  a  towel,  and 
was  dried  by  the  hands  of  Mrs  Bruce  in  her  dirty  apron. — This 
mode  of  washing  lasted  till  the  first  hoar-frost,  after  which 
there  was  a  basin  to  be  had  in  the  kitchen,  with  plenty  of  water 
and  not  much  soap. 

By  this  time  breakfast  was  nearly  ready,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  more,  Mrs  Bruce  called  Mr  Bruce  from  the  shop,  and 
the  children  from  the  yard,  and  they  all  sat  round  the  table  in 
the  kitchen — Mr  Bruce  to  his  tea  and  oat-cake  and  butter — 
Mrs  Bruce  and  the  children  to  badly-made  oatmeal  porridge 
and  sky-blue  milk.  This  quality  of  the  milk  was  remarkable, 
seeing  they  had  cows  of  their  own.  But  then  they  sold  milk. 
And  if  any  customer  had  accused  her  of  watering  it,  Mrs 
Bruce' s  best  answer  would  have  been  to  show  how  much  better 
what  she  sold  was  than  what  she  retained  ;  for  she  put  twice 
as  much  water  in  what  she  used  for  her  own  family — with  the 
exception  of  the  portion  destined  for  her  husband's  tea,  whose 
two  graces  were  long  and  strong  enough  for  a  better  breakfast. 
But  then  his  own  was  good  enough. 

Thei"e  were  three  children,  two  boys  with  great  jaws — the 
elder  rather  older  than  Annie — and  a  very  little  baby.  After 
Mr  Bruce  had  prayed  for  the  blessing  of  the  Holy  Spirit  upon 
their  food,  they  gobbled  down  their  breakfasts  with  all  noises 


22  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

except  articulate  ones.  When  they  had  finished — that  is,  eaten 
everything  up — the  Bible  was  brought ;  a  psalm  was  sung, 
after  a  fashion  not  very  extraordinary  to  the  ears  of  Annie,  or, 
indeed,  of  any  one  brought  up  in  Scotland ;  a  chapter  was  read 
— it  happened  to  tell  the  story  of  Jacob's  speculations  in  the 
money-market  of  his  day  and  generation  ;  and  the  exercise  con- 
cluded with  a  prayer  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  in  which  the  God 
of  Jacob  especially  was  invoked  to  bless  the  Bruces,  His  serv- 
ants, in  their  basket  and  in  their  store,  and  to  prosper  the 
labours  of  that  day  in  particular.  The  prayer  would  have  been 
longer,  but  for  the  click  of  the  latch  of  the  shop-door,  which 
brought  it  to  a  speedier  close  than  one  might  have  supposed 
even  Mr  Bruce's  notions  of  decency  would  have  permitted. 
And  almost  before  the  Amen  was  out  of  his  mouth,  he  was  out 
of  the  kitchen. 

When  he  had  served  the  early  customer,  he  returned,  and 
sitting  down,  drew  Annie  towards  him — between  his  knees,  in 
fact,  and  addressed  her  with  great  solemnity. 

"  Noo,  Annie,"  said  he,  "  ye  s'  get  the  day  to  play  yersel' ; 
but  ye  maun  gang  to  the  school  the  morn.  We  can  hae  no 
idle  fowk  i'  this  boose,  sae  we  maun  hae  nae  words  aboot  it." 

Annie  was  not  one  to  make  words  about  that  or  anything. 
She  was  only  too  glad  to  get  away  from  him.  Indeed  the  pros- 
pect of  school,  after  what  she  had  seen  of  the  economy  of  her 
home,  was  rather  enticing.     So  she  only  answered, 

"  Verra  weel,  sir.     Will  I  gang  the  day  ?  " 

Whereupon,  finding  her  so  tractable,  Mr  Bruce  added,  in 
the  tone  of  one  conferring  a  great  favour,  and  knowing  that  he 
did  so, 

"  Ye  can  come  into  the  shop  for  the  day,  and  see  what's 
gaein  on.  AYhan  ye're  a  muckle  woman,  ye  may  be  fit  to  stan' 
ahin'  the  coonter  some  day  yersel' — wha  kens  ?  " 

Robert  Bruce  regarded  the  shop  as  his  Bannockburn,  where 
all  his  enemies,  namely  customers,  were  to  be  defeated,  that  he 
might  be  enriched  with  their  spoils.  It  was,  therefore,  a  place 
of  so  great  interest  in  his  eyes,  that  he  thought  it  must  be  in- 
teresting to  everybody  else.  And,  indeed,  the  permission  did 
awake  some  ill-grounded  expectations  in  the  mind  of  Annie. 

She  followed  him  itito  the  shop,  and  saw  quite  a  fabulous 
wealth  of  good  things  around  her ;  of  which,  however,  lest  she 
should  put  forth  her  hand  and  take,  the  militant  eyes  of  Eobert 
Bruce  never  ceased  watching  her,  with  quick -recurring  glances, 
even  while  he  was  cajoling  some  customer  into  a  doubtful  pur- 
chase. 

Long  before  diiiner-tirae  arrived,  she  was  heartily  sick  of 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  23 

the  monotony  of  buying  and  selling  in  which  she  had  no  share. 
JN'ot  even  a  picture-book  was  taken  down  from  the  window  for 
her  to  look  at ;  so  that  she  soon  ceased  to  admire  even  the 
picture-books — a  natural  result  of  the  conviction  that  they  be- 
longed to  a  sphere  above  her  reach.  Mr  Bruce,  on  the  other 
hand,  looked  upon  them  as  far  below  the  notice  of  his  children, 
although  he  derived  a  keen  enjoyment  from  the  transference,  by 
their  allurements,  of  the  half-pence  of  other  children  from  their 
pockets  into  his  till. 

"  Naisty  trash  o'  lees,"  he  remarked,  apparently  for  Annie's 
behoof,  as  he  hung  the  fresh  bait  up  in  his  window,  after  two 
little  urchins,  with  haiciees  to  spend,  had  bought  a  couple  of 
the  radiant  results  of  literature  and  art  combined.  "  Naisty 
trash  o'  lees — only  fit  for  dirrty  laddies  and  lassies." 

He  stood  on  the  watch  in  his  shop  like  a  great  spider  that 
ate  children ;  and  his  windows  were  his  web. 

They  dined  oif  salt  herrings  and  potatoes — much  better  fare 
than  bad  porridge  and  watered  milk.  Robert  Bruce  the  younger, 
who  inherited  his  father's  name  and  disposition,  made  faces  at 
Annie  across  the  table  as  often  as  he  judged  it  prudent  to  run 
the  risk  of  discovery ;  but  Annie  was  too  stupefied  with  the 
awful  change  to  mind  it  much,  and  indeed  required  all  the  at- 
tention she  had  at  command,  for  the  arrest  of  herring  bones  on 
their  way  to  her  throat. 

After  dinner,  business  was  resumed  in  the  shop,  with  at 
least  the  resemblance  of  an  increase  of  vigour,  for  Mrs  Bruce 
went  behind  the  counter,  and  gave  her  husband  time  to  sit  down 
at  the  desk  to  write  letters  and  make  out  bills.  Not  that  there 
was  much  of  either  sort  of  clerkship  necessary  ;  but  Bruce,  like 
Chaucer's  Man  of  Law,  was  so  fond  of  business,  that  he  liked 
to  seem  busier  than  he  was.  As  it  happened  to  be  a  half-holiday, 
Annie  was  sent  with  the  rest  of  the  children  into  the  garden  to 
play  up  and  down  the  walks. 

"  An'  min',"  said  Bruce,  "  an'  baud  oot  ower  frae  the  dog." 

In  the  garden  Annie  soon  found  herself  at  the  mercy  of 
those  who  had  none. 

It  is  marvellous  what  an  amount  of  latent  torment  there  is 
in  boys,  ready  to  come  out  the  moment  an  object  presents  it- 
self. It  is  not  exactly  cruelty.  The  chi4d  that  tears  the  fly  to 
pieces  does  not  represent  to  himself  the  sufferings  the  insect 
undergoes  ;  he  merely  yields  to  an  impulse  to  disintegrate.  So 
children,  even  ordinarily  good  children,  are  ready  to  tease  any 
child  who  simply  looks  teasable,  and  so  provokes  the  act.  Now 
the  Bruces  were  not  good  children,  as  was  natural ;  and  they 
despised  x\nnie  because  she  was  a  girl,  and  because  she  had  no 


24  ALEC   rORBES   OF    HOWGLEN, 

self-assertion.  If  slie  had  shown  herself  aggressively  disagree- 
able, they  would  have  made  some  attempt  to  conciliate  her  ;  but 
as  it  was,  she  became  at  once  the  object  of  a  succession  of  spite- 
ful annoyances,  varying  in  intensity  with  the  fluctuating  inven- 
tion of  the  two  boys.  At  one  time  they  satisfied  themselves 
with  making  grimaces  of  as  insulting  a  character  as  they  could 
produce  ;  at  another  they  rose  to  the  rubbing  of  her  face  with 
dirt,  or  the  tripping  up  of  her  heels.  Their  persecution  be- 
wildered her,  and  the  resulting  stupefaction  was  a  kind  of  sup- 
port to  her  for  a  time  ;  but  at  last  she  could  endure  it  no  longer, 
being  really  hurt  by  a  fall,  and  ran  crying  into  the  shop,  where 
she  sobbed  out, 

"  Please,  sir,  they  winna  lat  me  be." 

"  Dinna  come  into  the  chop  wi'  yer  stories.  Mak'  it  up  amo' 
yersels." 

"  But  they  winna  mak'  it  up." 

Eobert  Bruce  rose  indignant  at  such  an  interruption  of  his 
high  calling,  and  went  out  with  the  assumption  of  much  parental 
grandeur.  He  was  instantly  greeted  with  a  torrent  of  assur- 
ances that  Annie  had  fallen,  and  then  laid  the  blame  upon  them  ; 
whereupon  he  turned  sternly  to  her,  and  said — 

"  Annie,  gin  je  tell  lees,  ye'll  go  to  hell." 

But  paternal  partiality  did  not  prevent  him  from  reading 
them  also  a  lesson,  though  of  a  quite  ditferent  tone. 

"  Mind,  boys,"  he  said,  in  a  condescending  Avhine,  "  that 
poor  Annie  has  neither  father  nor  mither ;  an'  ye  maun  be  kind 
till  her." 

He  then  turned  and  left  them  for  tlie  more  important  con- 
cerns within-doors ;  and  the  persecution  recommeuced,  though 
in  a  somewhat  mitigated  form.  The  little  wretches  were  per- 
fectly unable  to  abstain  from  indulging  in  a  pleasure  of  such 
intensity.     Annie  had  indeed  fallen  upon  evil  days. 

I  am  thus  minute  in  my  description  of  her  first  day,  that  my 
reader,  understanding  something  similar  of  man}'  following  days, 
may  be  able  to  give  due  weight  to  the  influence  of  other  events, 
when,  in  due  time,  they  come  to  be  recorded.  But  I  must  not 
conclude  the  account  without  mentioning  something  which  be- 
fell her  at  the  close  of  the  same  day,  and  threatened  to  be  pro- 
ductive of  yet  more  suftering. 

After  uvrsJiip,  the  boys  crawled  away  to  bed,  half-asleep 
already ;  or,  I  shoidd  rather  say,  only  half-awake  from  their 
prayers.     Annie  lingered. 

"  Can  ye  no  tak'  aft'  yer  ain  claes,  as  weel  as  pit  them  on, 
Annie  ?  "  asked  Mrs  Bruce. 

"  Ay,  weel  eneuch.     Only  I  wad  sair  like  a  bittie  o'  can'le," 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  25 

was  Annie's  trembling  reply,  for  she  iiad  a  sad  foreboding  in-  . 
stinct  now. 

"  Can'le  !  Na,  na,  bairn,"  answered  Mrs  Bruce.  "  Te  s' 
get  no  can'le  here.  Te  wad  hae  the  hoose  in  a  low  {flame) 
aboot  oor  lags  {ears).  I  canna  aftoord  cau'les.  Ye  can  jist 
mak'  a  can'le  o'  yer  ban's,  and  iin  {feel)  yer  gait  up  the  twa 
stairs.  There's  thirteen  steps  to  tlie  firs,  and  twal  to  the  neist." 
AVith  choking  lieart,  but  without  reply,  Annie  went. 
Groping  her  Avay  up  the  steep  ascent,  she  found  her  room 
without  any  difficulty.  As  it  Avas  again  a  clear,  starlit  night, 
there  was  light  enough  for  her  to  find  everything  she  wanted ; 
and  the  trouble  at  her  heart  kept  her  imagination  from  being  as 
active  as  it  would  otherwise  have  been,  in  recalling  the  terrible 
stories  of  ghosts  and  dead  people  with  which  she  was  far  too 
familiar.  She  soon  got  into  bed,  and,  as  a  precautionary  measure, 
buried  her  head  under  the  clothes  before  she  began  to  say  her 
prayers,  which,  under  the  circumstances,  she  had  thought  she 
might  be  excused  for  leaving  till  she  had  lain  down.  But 
her  prayers  were  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  terrible  noise  of 
scrambling  and  scratching  and  scampering  in  the  very  room  be- 
side her. 

"  1  tried  to  cry  oot,"  she  said  afterwards,  "  for  I  kent  'at  it 
was  rottans ;  but  my  tongue  booed  i'  my  mou'  for  fear,  and  I 
cudua  speak  ae  word." 

The  child's  fear  of  rats  amounted  to  a  frenzied  horror.  She 
dared  not  move  a  finger.  To  get  out  of  bed  with  those  creatures 
running  about  the  room  was  as  impossible  as  it  was  to  cry  out. 
But  her  heart  did  what  her  tongue  could  not  do — cried  out  with 
a  great  and  bitter  cry  to  one  who  was  more  ready  to  hear  tlian 
Eobert  and  Nancy  Bruce.  And  what  her  heart  cried  was  this  : 
"  O  Grod,  tak  care  o'  me  frae  the  rottans." 
There  was  no  need  to  send  an  angel  from  heaven  in  answer 
to  this  little  one's  prayer :  the  cat  would  do.  Annie  heard  a 
scratch  and  a  mew  at  the  door.  The  rats  made  one  frantic 
scramble,  and  were  still. 

"  It's  pussy !  "  she  cried,  recovering  the  voice  for  joy  that 
had  failed  her  for  fear. 

Fortified  by  her  arrival,  and  still  more  by  the  feeling  that 
she  was  a  divine  messenger  sent  to  succour  her  because  she  had 
prayed,  she  sprang  out  of  bed,  darted  across  the  room,  and 
opened  the  door  to  let  her  in.  A  few  moments  and  she  was 
fast  asleep,  guarded  by  God's  angel,  the  cat,  for  whose  entrance 
she  took  good  care  ever  after  to  leave  the  door  ajar. 

There  are  ways  of  keeping  the  door  of  the  mind  also,  ready 
as  it  is  to  fall  to,  ajar  for  the  cat. 


26 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  Noo,  Annie,  pit  on  yer  bonnet,  an'  gang  to  the  scliuil  wi' 
the  lave  {rest)  ;  an'  be  a  good  girrl." 

This  was  the  Bruce's  parting  address  to  Annie,  before  he  left 
the  kitchen  for  the  shop,  after  breakfast  and  worship  had  been 
duly  observed ;  and  having  just  risen  from  his  knees,  his  voice,  as 
he  stooped  over  the  child,  retained  all  the  sanctity  of  its  last  occu- 
pation. It  was  a  quarter  to  ten  o'clock,  and  the  school  was 
some  five  minutes  distant. 

With  a  flutter  of  fearful  hope,  Annie  obeyed.  She  ran  up- 
stairs, made  herself  as  tidy  as  she  could,  smoothed  her  hair,  put 
on  her  bonnet,  and  had  been  waiting  a  long  time  at  the  door 
when  her  companions  joined  her.  It  was  very  exciting  to  look 
forward  to  something  that  might  not  be  disagreeable. 

As  they  went,  the  boys  got  one  on  each  side  of  her  in  a 
rather  sociable  manner.  But  they  had  gone  half  the  distance 
and  not  a  word  had  been  spoken,  when  llobert  Bruce,  junior, 
opened  the  conversation  abruptly. 

"  Ye'll  get  it !  "  he  said,  as  if  he  had  been  brooding  npon  the 
fact  for  some  time,  and  now  it  had  broken  out. 

"  What' 11 1  get  ?  "  asked  Annie  timidly,  for  his  tone  had  al- 
ready filled  her  with  apprehension. 

"  Sic  lickins,"  answered  the  little  wretch,  drawing  back  his 
lips  till  his  canine  teeth  were  fully  disclosed,  as  if  he  gloated  in 
a  carnivorous  sort  of  way  over  the  prospect.  "  Wonna  she, 
Johnnie  ?  " 

"  Ay  wull  she,"  answered  Johnnie,  following  his  leader  with 
confidence. 

Annie's  heart  sank  within  her.  The  poor  little  heart  was 
used  to  sinking  now.  But  she  said  nothing,  resolved,  if  pos- 
sible, to  avoid  all  occasion  for  "  getting  it." 

Not  another  word  was  spoken  before  they  reached  the  school, 
the  door  of  which  was  not  yet  open.  A  good  many  boys  and  a 
few  girls  were  assembled,  waiting  for  the  master,  and  filling  the 
lane,  at  the  end  of  which  the  scliool  stood,  with  the  sound  of 
voices  fluctuating  through  a  very  compreliensive  scale.  In 
general  the  scliool-door  was  opened  a  few  minutes  before  the 
master's  arrival,  but  on  this  occasion  no  one  happened  to  have 
gone  to  his  house  to  fetch  tlie  key,  and  the  scholars  had  therefore 
to  wait  in  the  street.  None  of  them  took  any  notice  of  Annie  ; 
so  she  was  left  to  study  the  outside  of  the  school.  It  was  a 
long,  low,  thatched  building,  of  one  story  and  a  garret,  with 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  27 

five  windows  to  the  laue,  and  some  behind,  for  she  could  see 
light  tlirough.  It  had  been  a  weaving-shop  originally,  full  of 
hand-looms,  when  the  trade  in  linen  was  more  prosperous  than 
it  vvas  now.  From  the  thatch  some  of  the  night's  frost  was  al- 
ready dripping  in  slow  clear  drops.  Past  the  door,  which  was 
in  a  line  with  the  windows,  went  a  gutter,  the  waters  of  which 
sank  through  a  small  grating  a  few  steps  further  on.  But  there 
■was  no  water  running  in  it  now. 

Suddenly  a  boy  cried  out :  "The  maister's  comin' !  "  and 
instantly  the  noise  sunk  to  a  low  murmur.  Looking  up  the 
lane,  which  rose  considerably  towards  the  other  end,  Annie  saw 
the  figure  of  the  descending  dominie.  He  was  dressed  in  what 
seemed  to  be  black,  but  was  in  reality  gray,  almost  as  good  as 
black,  and  much  more  thrifty.  He  came  down  the  hill  swing- 
ing his  arms,  like  opposing  pendulums,  in  a  manner  that  made 
the  rapid  pace  at  which  he  approached  like  a  long  slow  trot. 
With  the  door-key  in  his  hand,  already  pointed  towards  the 
key-hole,  he  went  right  through  the  little  crowd,  which  cleared 
a  wide  path  for  him,  without  word  or  gesture  of  greeting  on 
either  side.  I  might  almost  say  he  swooped  upon  the  door,  for 
with  one  hand  on  the  key,  and  the  other  on  the  latch,  he  seemed 
to  wrench  it  open  the  moment  he  touched  it.  In  bestrode,  fol- 
lowed at  the  heels  by  the  troop  of  boys,  big  and  little,  and  lastly 
by  the  girls — last  of  all,  at  a  short  distance,  by  Annie,  like  a 
motherless  lamb  that  followed  the  flock,  because  she  did  not 
know  what  else  to  do.  She  found  she  had  to  go  down  a  step 
into  a  sunk  passage  or  lobby,  and  then  up  another  step,  through 
a  door  on  the  left,  into  the  school.  There  she  saw  a  double  row 
of  desks,  with  a  clear  space  down  the  middle  between  the  rows. 
Each  scholar  was  hurrying  to  his  place  at  one  of  the  desks, 
where,  as  he  arrived,  he  stood.  The  master  already  stood  in 
solemn  posture  at  the  nearer  end  of  the  room  on  a  platform  be- 
hind his  desk,  prepared  to  commence  the  extempore  prayer, 
which  was  printed  in  a  kind  of  blotted  stereotype  upon  every 
one  of  their  brains.  Annie  had  hardly  succeeded  in  reaching  a 
vacant  place  among  the  girls  when  he  began.  The  boys  were  as 
still  as  death  while  the  master  prayed ;  but  a  spectator  might 
easily  have  discovered  that  the  chief  good  some  of  them  got 
from  the  ceremony  was  a  perfect  command  of  the  organs  of 
sound  ;  for  the  restraint  was  limited  to  those  organs  ;  and  pro- 
jected tongues,  deprived  of  their  natural  exercise,  tui-ned  them- 
selves, along  with  winking  eyes,  contorted  features,  and  a  wild 
use  of  hands  and  arms,  into  the  means  of  telegraphic  despatches 
to  all  parts  of  the  room,  throughout  the  ceremony.  The  mas- 
ter, afraid  of  being  himself  detected  in  the  attempt  to  combine 


28  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

prayer  and  vision,  kept  bis  "  eyelids  screwed  together  tight," 
and  played  the  spy  with  his  ears  alone.  The  boys  and  girls, 
understanding  the  source  of  their  security  perfectly,  believed 
that  the  eyelids  of  the  master  would  keep  faith  with  them,  and 
so  disported  themselves  without  fear  in.  the  delights  of  dumb 
show. 

As  soon  as  the  prayer  was  over  they  dropped,  with  no  little 
noise  and  bustle,  into  their  seats.  But  presently  Annie  was 
rudel}''  pushed  out  of  her  seat  by  a  hoydenish  girl,  who,  arriving 
late,  had  stood  outside  the  door  till  the  prayer  was  over,  and 
then  entered  unperceived  during  the  subsequent  confusion. 
Some  little  ones  on  the  opposite  form,  however,  liking  the  look 
of  her,  and  so  wishing  to  have  her  for  a  companion,  made  room 
for  her  beside  them.  The  desks  were  double,  so  that  the  two 
rows  at  each  desk  faced  each  other. 

"  Bible-class  come  up,"  were  the  first  words  of  the  master, 
ringing  through  the  room,  and  resounding  awfully  in  Annie's 
ears. 

A  moment  of  chaos  followed,  during  which  all  the  boys  and 
girls,  considered  capable  of  reading  the  Bible,  were  arranging 
themselves  in  one  great  crescent  across  the  room  in  front  of  the 
master's  desk.  Each  read  a  verse — neither  more  nor  less — often 
leaving  the  half  of  a  sentence  to  be  taken  up  as  a  new  subject 
in  a  new  key ;  thus  perverting  what  was  intended  as  an  assist- 
ance to  find  the  truth  into  a  means  of  hiding  it — a  process  con- 
stantly repeated,  and  with  far  more  serious  results,  when  the 
words  of  truth  fall,  not  into  the  hands  of  the  incapable,  but 
under  the  protection  of  the  ambitious. 

The  chapter  that  came  in  its  turn  was  one  to  be  pondered 
over  by  the  earnest  student  of  human  nature,  not  one  to  be 
blundered  over  by  boys  who  had  still  less  reverence  for  humanity 
than  they  had  for  Scripture.  It  was  a  good  thing  that  tliey  were 
not  tlie  sacred  fountains  of  the  New  Testamejit  that  were  thus 
dabbled  in — not,  however,  that  the  latter  were  considered  at  all 
more  precious  or  worthy  ;  as  Saturday  and  the  Shorter  Cate- 
chism would  show. 

Not  knowing  the  will  of  the  master,  Annie  had  not  dared  to 
stand  up  with  the  class,  although  she  could  read  very  fairly.  A 
few  moments  after  it  was  dismissed  she  felt  herself  overshadowed 
by  an  awful  presence,  and,  looking  up,  saw,  as  slie  had  expected, 
the  face  of  the  master  bending  down  over  her.  lie  proceeded 
to  question  her,  but  for  some  time  she  was  too  frightened  to  give 
a  rational  account  of  her  acquirements,  the  best  of  which  were 
certainly  not  of  a  kind  to  be  appi'eciated  by  tlie  master,  even  if 
she  had  understood  them  herself  sulliciently  to  set  them  out 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  29 

before  liim.  Yov,  besides  her  aunt,  who  had  taught  her  to  read, 
and  nothing  more,  her  only  instructors  had  been  Nature,  with  her 
whole  staff,  including  the  sun,  moon,  and  wind ;  the  grass,  the 
corn.  Brownie  the  cow,  and  her  own  faithful  subject,  Dowie. 
Still,  it  was  a  great  mortification  to  her  to  be  put  into  the  spell- 
ing-book, which  excluded  her  from  the  Bible-class.  She  was 
also  condemned  to  follow  with  an  uncut  quill,  over  and  over 
again,  a  single  straight  stroke,  set  her  by  the  master.  Dread- 
fully dreary  she  found  it,  and  over  it  she  fell  fast  asleep.  Her 
head  dropped  on  her  outstretched  arm,  and  the  quill  dropped 
from  her  sleeping  fingers — for  when  Annie  slept  she  all  slept. 
But  she  was  soon  roused  by  the  voice  of  the  master.  "  Ann  An- 
derson ! "  it  called  in  a  burst  of  thunder  to  her  ear ;  and  she 
awoke  to  shame  and  confusion,  amidst  the  titters  of  those  aroiind 
her. 

Before  the  morning  was  over  she  was  called  up,  along  with 
some  children  considerably  younger  than  herself,  to  read  and 
spell.  The  master  stood  before  them,  armed  with  a  long,  thick 
strap  of  horse-hide,  prepared  by  steeping  in  brine,  black  and 
supple  with  constant  use,  and  cut  into  fingers  at  one  end,  which 
had  been  hardened  in  the  fire. 

Now  there  was  a  little  pale-faced,  delicate-looking  boy  in  the 
class,  who  blundered  a  good  deal.  Every  time  he  did  so  the 
cruel  serpent  of  leather  went  at  him,  coiling  round  his  legs  with 
a  sudden,  hissing  swash.  This  made  him  cry,  and  his  tears 
blinded  him  so  that  he  could  not  even  see  the  words  which  he 
had  been  unable  to  read  before.  But  he  still  attempted  to  go 
on,  and  still  the  instrument  of  torture  went  swish-swash  round 
his  little  thin  legs,  raising  upon  them,  no  doubt,  plentiful  blue 
wales,  to  be  revealed,  when  he  was  undressed  for  the  night,  to 
the  indignant  eyes  of  pitying  mother  or  aunt,  who  would  yet 
send  him  back  to  the  school  the  nest  morning  without  fail. 

At  length  either  the  heart  of  the  master  was  touched  by  the 
sight  of  his  sufferings  and  repressed  weeping,  or  he  saw  that  he 
was  compelling  the  impossible;  for  he  stayed  execution,  and 
passed  on  to  the  next,  who  was  Annie. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  trembling  child,  who  could  read 
very  fairly,  should  yet,  after  such  an  introduction  to  the  ways 
of  school,  fail  utterly  in  making  anything  like  coherence  of  the 
sentence  before  her.  What  she  would  have  done,  had  she  been 
left  to  herself,  would  have  been  to  take  the  little  boy  in  her 
arms  and  cry  too.  As  it  was,  she  struggled  mightily  with  her 
tears,  and  yet  she  did  not  read  to  much  better  purpose  than  the 
poor  boy,  who  was  still  busy  wiping  his  eyes  with  his  sleeves, 
alternately,  for  he  never  had  had  a  handkerchief     But  being  a 


30  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

new-comer,  and  a  girl  to  boot,  and  her  long  frock  affording  no 
facilities  for  this  kind  of  incentive  to  learning,  she  escaped  for 
the  time. 

It  was  a  dreadful  experience  of  life,  though,  that  first  day  at 
school.  Well  might  the  children  have  prayed  with  David — 
"  Let  us  fall  now  into  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  for  his  mercies  are 
great ;  and  let  us  not  fall  into  the  hand  of  man."  And  well 
might  the  children  at  many  another  school  respond  with  a  loud 
Amen  ! 

At  one  o'clock  they  were  dismissed,  and  went  home  to  din- 
ner, to  return  at  three. 

In  the  afternoon  she  was  set  to  make  figures  on  a  slate.  She 
made  figures  till  her  back  ached.  The  monotony  of  this  occu- 
pation was  relieved  only  by  the  sight  of  the  execution  of  criminal 
law  upon  various  offending  boys  ;  for,  as  must  be  already  par- 
tially evident,  the  master  was  a  hard  man,  with  a  severe,  if  not 
an  altogether  cruel  temper,  and  a  quite  savage  sense  of  duty. 
The  punishment  was  mostly  in  the  form  oi  pandies, — blows  de- 
livered with  varying  force,  but  generally  with  the  full  swing  of 
the  tar/,  as  it  was  commonly  called,  thrown  over  the  mast6r's 
shoulder,  and  brought  down  with  the  whole  strength  of  his 
powerful  right  arm  upon  the  outstretched  hand  of  the  culprit. 
But  there  were  other  modes  of  punishment,  of  which  the  re- 
straints of  art  would  forbid  the  description,  even  if  it  were 
possible  for  any  writer  to  conquer  his  disgust  so  far  as  to  at- 
tempt it. 

Annie  shivered  and  quaked.  Once  she  burst  out  crying, 
but  managed  to  choke  her  sobs,  if  she  could  not  hide  her  tears. 

A  fine-looking  boy,  three  or  four  years  older  than  herself, 
whose  open  countenance  was  set  off"  by  masses  of  dark  brown 
hair,  was  called  up  to  I'eceive  chastisement,  merited  or  unmerited 
as  the  case  might  be  ;  for  such  a  disposition  as  that  of  Murdoch 
Malison  must  liave  been  more  than  ordinarily  liable  to  mistake. 
Justice,  according  to  his  idea,  consisted  in  vengeance.  And  he 
was  fond  of  justice.  He  did  not  want  to  punish  the  innocent, 
it  is  true;  but  I  doubt  whether  the  discovery  of  a  boy's  inno- 
cence was  not  a  disappointment  to  him.  AV^ithout  a  word  of 
expostulation  or  defence,  the  boy  held  out  his  hand,  with  his 
arm  at  full  length,  received  four  stinging  blows  upon  it,  grew 
very  red  in  the  face,  gave  a  kind  of  grotesque  smile,  and  re- 
turned to  his  seat  with  the  suffering  hand  sent  into  retirement 
in  his  trowsers-pocket.  Annie's  admiration  of  his  courage  as 
well  as  of  his  looks,  though  perhaps  unrecognizable  as  such  by 
herself,  may  have  had  its  share  witli  her  pity  in  the  tears  that 
followed.     Somehow  or  other,  at  all  events,  she  made  up  her 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  31 

mind  to  bear  more  patiently  the  persecutions  of  tlie  little 
Bruces,  and,  if  ever  her  turn  should  come  to  be  punished,  as  no 
doubt  it  would,  whether  she  deserved  it  or  not,  to  try  to  take 
the  whipping  as  she  had  seen  Alec  Forbes  take  it.  Poor  Annie  ! 
If  it  should  come  to  that — nervous  organizations  are  so  different ! 

At  five,  the  school  was  dismissed  for  the  day,  not  without 
another  extempore  prayer.  A  succession  of  jubilant  shouts 
arose  as  the  boys  rushed  out  into  the  lane.  Every  day  to  them 
was  a  cycle  of  strife,  suffering,  and  deliverance.  Birth  and  death, 
with  the  life-struggle  between,  were  shadowed  out  in  it — with 
this  difference,  that  the  God  of  a  corrupt  Calvinism,  in  the  per- 
son of  Murdoch  Malison,  ruled  that  world,  and  not  the  God 
revealed  in  the  man  Christ  Jesus.  And  most  of  them  having 
felt  the  day  more  or  less  a  burden,  were  now  going  home  to 
heaven  for  the  night. 

Annie,  having  no  home,  was  amongst  the  few  exceptions. 
Dispirited  and  hopeless — a  terrible  condition  for  a  child — she 
wondered  how  Alec  Forbes  could  be  so  merry.  But  he  had  had 
his  evil  things,  and  they  were  over ;  while  hers  were  all  about 
her  still.  She  had  but  one  comfort  left — that  no  one  would 
prevent  her  from  creeping  up  to  her  own  desolate  garret,  which 
was  now  the  dreary  substitute  for  Brownie's  stall.  Thither  the 
persecuting  boys  were  not  likely  to  follow  her.  And  if  the  rats 
were  in  that  garret,  so  was  the  cat ;  or  at  least  the  cat  knew 
the  way  to  it.  There  she  might  think  in  peace  about  some 
things  about  which  she  had  never  before  seemed  to  have  occasion 
to  think. 


CHAPTER  X. 


Thus  at  home,  if  home  it  could  be  called,  and  at  school, 
Annie's  days  passed — as  most  days  pass — with  family  resem- 
blance and  individual  difference  wondrously  mingled.  She 
became  interested  in  what  she  had  to  learn,  if  not  from  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  presented  to  her  comprehension,  yet 
from  the  fact  that  she  had  to  learn  it.  Happily  or  unhappily, 
too,  she  began  to  get  used  to  the  sight  of  the  penal  suffering  of 
her  schoolfellows.  Nor  had  anything  of  the  kind  as  yet  visited 
her  ;  for  it  would  have  been  hard  for  even  a  more  savage  master 
than  Mr  Malison  to  find  occasion,  now  that  the  first  disabling 
influences  had  passed  away,  to  punish  the  nervous,  delicate, 


32  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

anxious  little  orphau,  "who  was  so  diligent,  and  as  quiet  as  a 
mouse  tliat  fears  to  awake  a  sleeping  cat.  She  had  a  scared 
look  too,  that  might  have  moved  the  heart  of  Malison  even,  if 
he  had  ever  paid  the  least  attention  to  the  looks  of  childi'en. 
Por  the  absence  of  human  companionship  in  bestial  forms ;  the 
loss  of  green  fields,  free  to  her  as  to  the  winds  of  heaven,  and  of 
country  sounds  and  odours ;  and  an  almost  constant  sense  of 
oppression  from  the  propinquity  of  one  or  another  whom  she 
had  cause  to  fear,  were  speedily  working  sad  eifects  upon  her. 
The  little  colour  she  had  died  out  of  her  cheek.  Her  face 
grew  thin,  and  her  blue  eyes  looked  wistful  and  large  out  of 
their  sulken  cells.  Not  often  were  tears  to  be  seen  in  them 
now,  and  yet  they  looked  well  acquainted  with  tears — like  foun- 
tains that  had  been  full  yesterday.  She  never  smiled,  for  there 
was  nothing  to  make  her  smile. 

But  she  gained  one  thing  by  this  desolation  :  the  thought 
of  her  dead  father  came  to  her,  as  it  had  never  come  before  ;  and 
she  began  to  love  him  with  an  intensity  she  had  known  nothing 
of  till  now.  Her  mother  had  died  at  her  birth,  and  she  had 
been  her  father's  treasure  ;  but  in  the  last  period  of  his  illness 
she  had  seen  less  of  him,  and  the  blank  left  by  his  death  had, 
therefore,  come  upon  her  gradually.  Before  she  knew  what  it 
was,  she  had  begun  to  forget.  In  the  minds  of  children  the 
grass  grows  very  quickly  over  their  buried  dead.  But  now  she 
learned  what  death  meant,  or  rather  what  love  had  been ;  not, 
however,  as  an  added  grief:  it  comforted  her  to  remember  how 
her  father  had  loved  her ;  and  she  said  her  prayers  the  oftener, 
because  they  seemed  to  go  somewhere  near  the  place  where  her 
father  was.  She  did  not  think  of  her  father  being  where  God 
was,  but  of  God  being  where  her  father  was. 

The  winter  was  drawing  nearer  too,  and  the  days  were  now 
short  and  cold.  A  watery  time  began,  and  for  many  days  to- 
gether the  rain  kept  falling  without  intermission.  1  almost 
think  Annie  would  have  died,  but  for  her  dead  lather  to  think 
about.  On  one  of  those  rainy  days,  however,  she  began  to  find 
that  it  is  in  the  nature  of  good  things  to  come  in  odd  ways.  It 
had  rained  the  whole  day,  not  tamely  and  drizzingly,  but  in  real 
earnest,  dancing  and  rebounding  from  the  pools,  and  raising  a 
mist  by  the  very  "  crash  of  water-drops."  Now  and  then  the 
school  became  silent,  just  to  listen  to  the  wide  noise  made  by 
the  busy  cataract  of  the  heavens,  each  drop  a  messenger  of  good, 
a  sweet  returning  of  earth's  aspirations,  in  the  form  of  Heaven's 
Amen  !  But  tlie  boys  thought  only  of  the  fun  of  dabbling  in 
the  torrents  as  they  went  home ;  or  the  delights  of  net-fishing 
in  the  swollen  and  muddy  rivers,  when  the  fish  no  longer  see 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  33 

their  way,  but  go  wandering  about  in  perplexity,  just  as  we 
human  mortals  do  in  a  thick  fog,  whether  of  the  atmosphere  or 
of  circumstance. 

The  afternoon  was  waning.  It  was  nearly  time  to  go  ;  and 
still  the  rain  was  pouring  and  plashing  around.  In  the  gather- 
ing gloom  there  had  been  more  than  the  usual  amount  of 
waudering  from  one  part  of  the  school  to  another,  and  the 
elder  Bruce  had  stolen  to  a  form  occupied  by  some  little  boys, 
next  to  the  one  on  which  Annie  sat  with  her  back  towards  them. 
If  it  was  not  the  real  object  of  his  expedition,  at  least  he  took 
the  opportunity  to  give  Annie  a  spiteful  dig  with  his  elbow ; 
which,  operating  even  more  powerfully  tlian  he  had  intended, 
forced  from  her  an  involuntary  cry.  Now  the  master  indulged 
in  an  occasional  refinement  of  the  executive,  which  consisted  in 
this :  he  threw  the  tawse  at  the  offender,  not  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  hurting — although  that,  being  a  not  infrequent  result, 
may  be  supposed  to  have  had  a  share  in  the  intention — as  of 
humiliating ;  for  the  culprit  had  to  bear  the  instrument  of 
torture  back  to  the  hands  of  the  executioner.  He  threw  the 
tawse  at  Annie,  half,  let  us  suppose,  in  thoughtless  cruelty, 
half  in  evil  jest.  It  struck  her  rather  sharply,  before  she  had  re- 
covered breath  after  the  blow  Bruce  had  given  her.  Ready  to 
faint  with  pain  and  terror,  she  rose,  pale  as  death,  and  staggered 
up  to  the  master,  carrying  the  tawse  with  something  of  the  same 
horror  she  would  have  felt  had  it  been  a  snake.  With  a  grim 
smile,  he  sent  her  back  to  her  seat.  The  moment  she  reached 
it  her  self-control  gave  way,  and  she  burst  into  despairing, 
thougli  silent  tears.  The  desk  was  still  shaking  with  her  sobs, 
and  some  of  the  girls  were  still  laughing  at  her  grief,  when  a 
new  occurrence  attracted  their  attention.  Through  the  noise 
of  the  falling  rain  a  still  louder  rushing  of  water  was  heard,  and 
the  ears  and  eyes  of  all  sought  the  source  of  the  sound.  Even 
Annie  turned  her  wet  cheeks  and  overflowing  eyes  languidly 
towards  the  door.  Mr  Malison  went  and  opened  it.  A  flood  of 
brown  water  was  pouring  into  the  sunk  passage  already  de- 
scribed. The  grating  by  which  the  rain-torrent  that  flowed  past 
the  door  should  have  escaped,  had  got  choked,  the  stream  had 
been  dammed  back,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  the  room  itself 
would  be  flooded.  Perceiving  this,  the  master  hastily  dis- 
missed his  pupils. 

There  could  be  no  better  fun  for  most  of  the  boys  and  some 
of  the  girls,  than  to  wade  through  the  dirty  water.  Many  of 
the  boys  dashed  through  it  at  once,  shoes  and  all;  but  some  of 
the  boys,  and  almost  all  the  girls,  took  off"  their  shoes  and  stock- 
ings.    When  Annie  got  a  peep  of  the  water,  writhing  and  tum- 

3 


34 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN 


bling  in  the  passage,  it  looked  so  ugly,  that  she  shrunk  from 
fording  it,  especially  if  she  must  go  in  with  her  bare  feet.  She 
could  not  tell  what  might  be  sweeping  about  in  that  filthy  whirl- 
pool. She  was  still  looking  at  it  as  it  kept  rising,  in  pale  per- 
plexity and  dismay,  with  the  forgotten  tears  still  creeping  down 
her  cheeks,  when  she  was  caught  up  from  behind  by  a  boy,  who, 
with  his  shoes  and  stockings  in  one  hand,  now  seated  her  on  the 
other  arm.  She  peeped  timidly  round  to  see  who  it  was,  and 
the  brave  brown  eyes  of  Alec  Forbes  met  hers,  lighted  by  a  kind, 
pitying  smile.  In  that  smile  the  cloudy  sky  of  the  universe 
gently  opened,  and  the  face  of  God  looked  out  upon  Annie.  It 
gave  her,  for  the  moment,  all  that  she  had  been  dying  for  want 
of  for  many  weeks — weeks  long  as  years.  She  could  not  help  it 
■ — she  threw  her  arms  round  Alec  Forbes's  neck,  laid  her  wet 
cheek  against  his,  and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She 
did  not  care  for  the  Bruces,  or  the  rats,  or  even  the  schoolmaster 
now.  Alec  clasped  her  tighter,  and  vowed  in  his  heart  that  if 
ever  that  brute  Malison  lilted  the  tag  to  her,  he  would  fly  at  his 
throat.  He  would  have  carried  her  all  the  way  home,  for  she 
was  no  great  weight ;  but  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  the 
house  Annie  begged  him  to  set  her  down  so  earnestly,  that  he 
at  once  complied,  and,  bidding  her  good  night,  ran  home  barefoot 
through  the  flooded  roads. 

The  Bruces  had  gone  on  with  the  two  umbrellas,  one  of  which, 
more  to  her  discomfort  than  protection,  Annie  had  shared  in 
coming  to  the  school ;  so  that  she  was  very  wet  before  she  got 
home.  But  no  notice  was  taken  of  the  condition  she  was  in ; 
the  consequence  of  which  was  ft,  severe  cold  and  cough,  which, 
however,  were  not  regarded  as  any  obstacles  to  her  going  to 
school  the  next  day. 

That  night  she  lay  awake  for  a  long  time,  and  when  at  last 
she  fell  asleep,  she  dreamed  that  she  took  Alec  Forbes  home  to 
see  her  father — out  the  street  and  the  long  road  ;  over  the  black 
moor,  and  through  the  fields  ;  in  at  the  door  of  the  house,  and 
up  the  stair  to  her  father's  room,  where  he  lay  in  bed.  And  she 
told  him  how  kind  Alec  had  been  to  lier,  and  how  happy  she  was 
going  to  be  now.  And  her  father  put  his  hand  out  of  the  bed, 
and  laid  it  on  Alec's  head,  and  said  :  "  Thank  ye.  Alec  for  being 
kind  to  my  poor  Annie."  And  then  she  cried,  and  woke  cry- 
ing— strange  tears  out  of  dreamland,  half  of  delicious  sorrow 
and  half  of  trembling  joy. 

With  what  altered  feelings  she  seated  herself  after  the 
prayer,  next  day,  auu  glanced  round  the  room  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  lier  new  friend!  There  lie  was,  radiant  as  usual.  He  took 
no  notice  of  her,  and  she  had  not  expected  that  he  would.     But 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  35 

it  was  not  long  before  he  found  out,  now  that  he  was  interested 
in  her,  that  her  cousins  were  by  no  means  friendly  to  her ;  for 
their  seats  were  not  far  from  the  girl's  quarter,  and  they  took 
every  sheltered  opportunity  of  giving  her  a  pinch  or  a  shove,  or 
of  making  vile  grimaces  at  her. 

In  the  afternoon,  while  she  was  busy  over  an  addition  sum 
which  wasmore  than  usually  obstinate, Robert  came  stealthily  be- 
hind her,  and,  licking  his  hand,  watched  his  opportunity,  and  rub- 
bed the  sum  from  her  slate.  The  same  moment  he  received  a  box 
on  the  ear,  that  no  doubt  filled  his  head  with  more  noises  than 
that  of  the  impact.  He  yelled  with  rage  and  pain,  and,  catching 
sight  of  the  administrator  of  justice  as  he  was  returning  to  his 
seat,  bawled  out  in  a  tone  of  fierce  complaint :  "  Sanny  Forbes  !  " 

"  Alexander  Forbes  !  come  up,"  responded  the  voice  of  the 
master.  Forbes  not  being  a  first-rate  scholar,  was  not  a  favour- 
ite with  him,  for  Mr  Malison  had  no  sense  for  what  was  fine  in 
character  or  disposition.  Had  the  name  been  that  of  one  of  his 
better  Latin  scholars,  the  cry  of  Bruce  would  most  likely  have 
passed  unheeded. 

"  Hold  up  your  hand,"  he  said,  without  requesting  or  waiting 
for  an  explanation. 

Alec  obeyed.  Annie  gave  a  smothered  shriek,  and,  tumbling 
from  her  seat,  rushed  up  to  the  master.  When  she  found  her- 
self face  to  face  with  the  tyrant,  however,  not  one  word  could  she 
speak.  She  opened  her  mouth,  but  throat  and  tongue  refused  their 
oflBces,  and  she  stood  gasping.  The  master  stared,  his  arm  ar- 
rested in  act  to  strike,  and  his  face  turned  over  his  left  shoulder, 
with  all  the  blackness  of  his  anger  at  Forbes  lowering  upon 
Annie.  He  stood  thus  for  one  awful  moment,  then  motioning 
her  aside  with  a  sweep  of  his  head,  brought  down  the  tawse  upon 
the  hand  which  Alec  had  continued  to  hold  outstretched,  with 
the  vehemence  of  accumulated  wrath.  Annie  gave  a  choking 
cry,  and  Alec,  so  violent  was  the  pain,  involuntarily  withdrew  his 
hand.  But  instantly,  ashamed  of  his  weakness,  he  presented  it 
again,  and  received  the  remainder  of  his  punishment  without 
flinching.  The  master  then  turned  to  Annie ;  and  finding  her 
still  speechless,  gave  her  a  push  that  nearly  threw  her  on  her 
face,  and  said, 

"  Go  to  your  seat,  Ann  Anderson.  The  next  time  you  do 
that  I  will  punish  you  severely." 

Annie  sat  down,  and  neither  sobbed  nor  cried.  But  it  was  days 
before  she  recovered  from  the  shock.  Once,  long  after,  when  she 
was  reading  about  the  smothering  of  the  princes  in  the  Tower,  the 
whole  of  the  physical  sensations  of  those  terrible  moments  return- 
ed upon  her.  and  she  sprang  from  her  seat  in  a  choking  agony. 


36 


CHAPTER  XL 

Fob  some  time  neither  of  the  Bruces  ventured  even  to 
make  a  wry  face  at  her  in  school ;  but  their  behaviour  to  her  at 
home  was  only  so  much  the  worse. 

Two  days  after  the  events  recorded,  as  Annie  was  leaving 
the  kitchen,  after  worship,  to  go  up  to  bed,  Mr  Bruce  called  her. 

"  Annie  Anderson,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  speak  to  ye." 

Annie  turned,  trembling. 

"I  see  ye  ken  what  it's  aboot,"  he  went  on,  staring  her  full 
in  the  pale  face,  which  grew  paler  as  he  stared.  "  Te  canna  luik 
me  i'  the  face.  Whaur's  the  candy-sugar  an'  the  prunes  ?  I  ken 
weel  eneuch  whaur  they  are,  and  sae  do  ye." 

"  I  ken  naething  aboot  them,"  answered  Annie,  with  a  sud- 
den revival  of  energy. 

"  Dinna  lee,  Annie.    It's  ill  eneuch  to  steal,  without  leein'." 

"  I'm  no  leein',"  answered  she,  bursting  into  tears  of  indig- 
nation.    "  Wha  said  'at  I  took  them  ?  " 

"  That's  naething  to  the  pint.  Ye  wadna  greit  that  gait  gin 
ye  war  innocent,  I  never  missed  onything  afore.  And  ye  ken 
weel  eneuch  there's  an  ee  that  sees  a'  thing,  and  ye  canna  hide 
frae  hit." 

Bruce  could  hardly  have  intended  that  it  was  by  inspiration 
from  on  high  that  he  had  discovei-ed  the  thief  of  his  sweets. 
But  he  thought  it  better  to  avoid  mentioning  that  the  informer 
was  his  own  son  Johnnie.  Johnnie,  on  his  part,  had  thought  it 
better  not  to  mention  that  he  had  been  incited  to  the  act  by  his 
brother  Robert.  And  Robert  had  tliought  it  better  not  to  men- 
tion that  he  did  so  partly  to  shield  himself,  and  partly  out  of 
revenge  for  the  box  on  the  ear  which  Alee  Forbes  had  given 
him.  The  information  had  been  yielded  to  the  inquisition  of 
the  parent,  who*  said  with  truth  that  he  had  never  missed  any- 
thing before ;  although  I  suspect  that  a  course  of  petty  and 
cautious  pilfering  had  at  length  passed  the  narrow  bounds 
within  which  it  could  be  concealed  from  the  lynx  eyes  inherited 
from  the  kingly  general.  Possibly  a  bilious  attack,  which  con- 
fined the  elder  boy  to  the  house  for  two  or  three  days,  may  have 
had  something  to  do  with  the  theft ;  but  if  Bruce  had  any  sus- 
picions of  the  sort,  he  never  gave  utterance  to  them. 

"  I  dinna  want  to  hide  frae  't,"  cried  Annie.  "  Gruid  kens," 
bhe  went  on  in  desperation,  "  that  I  wadna  touch  a  grain  o' 
saut  wantin'  leave." 

"  It's  a  pity,  Annie,  that  some  fowk  dinna  get  their  ain 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN,  37 

share  o'  Mr  Malison's  tards."  {Tards  was  considered  a  more 
dignified  word  than  tag.')  "  I  dinna  like  to  lick  ye  mysel', 
cause  ye're  ither  fowk's  bairn  ;  but  I  can  hardly  baud  my  ban's 
aff  o'  ye." 

It  must  not  be  supposed  from  this  speech  that  Robert 
Bruce  ever  ventured  to  lay  his  hands  on  his  own  children.  He 
was  too  much  afraid  of  their  mother,  who,  perfectly  submissive 
and  sympathetic  in  ordinary,  would  have  flown  into  the  rage  of 
a  hen  with  chickens  if  even  her  own  husband  had  dared  to 
chastise  one  of  her  children.  The  shop  might  be  more  Robert's 
than  hers,  but  the  children  were  more  hers  than  Robert's. 

Overcome  with  shame  and  righteous  anger,  Annie  burst  out 
in  the  midst  of  fresh  tears  : 

"  I  wish  Auntie  wad  come  an  tak  me  awa' !  It's  an  ill 
hoose  to  be  in." 

These  words  had  a  visible  effect  upon  Bruce.  He  expected 
a  visit  from  Marget  Anderson  within  a  day  or  two ;  and  he  did 
not  know  what  the  effect  of  the  representations  of  Annie  might 
be.  The  use  of  her  money  had  not  been  secured  to  him  for  any 
lengthened  period — Dowie,  anxious  to  take  all  precautions  for 
his  little  mistress,  having  consulted  a  friendly  lawyer  on  the 
subject,  lest  she  should  be  left  defenceless  in  the  hands  of  a  man 
of  whose  moral  qualities  Dowie  had  no  exalted  opinion.  The 
sale  having  turned  out  better  than  had  been  expected,  the  sum 
committed  to  Bruce  was  two  hundred  pounds,  to  lose  which 
now  would  be  hardly  less  than  ruin.  He  thought  it  better, 
therefore,  not  doubting  Annie  to  be  the  guilty  person,  to  count 
the  few  lumps  of  sugar  he  might  lose,  as  an  additional  trifle  of 
interest,  and  not  quarrel  with  his  creditor  for  extorting  it.  So 
with  the  weak  cunning  of  his  kind,  he  went  to  the  shop,  and 
bringing  back  a  bit  of  sugar-candy,  about  the  size  of  a  pigeon's 
egg,  said  to  the  still  weeping  child  : 

"  Dinna  greit,  Annie.  I  canna  bide  to  see  ye  greitin'.  Gin 
ye  want  a  bittie  o'  sugar  ony  time,  jist  tell  me,  an'  dinna  gang 
helpin'  yoursel'.     That's  a'.     Hae." 

He  thrust  the  lump  into  Annie's  hand ;  but  she  dropped  it 
on  the  floor  with  disgust,  and  rushed  up-stairs  to  her  bed  as 
fast  as  tl>e  darkness  would  let  her:  where,  notwithstanding  her 
indignation,  she  was  soon  fast  asleep. 

Bruce  searched  for  the  sugar-candy  which  she  had  rejected, 
until  he  found  it.  He  then  restored  it  to  the  drawer  whence 
he  had  taken  it — which  he  could  find  in  the  dark  with  perfect 
ease — resolving  as  he  did  so,  to  be  more  careful  in  future  of 
oftending  little  Annie  Anderson. 

When  the  day  arrived  upon  which  he  expected  Marget'a 


38  ALEC    FORBES    OP    HOWGLEN. 

visit,  that  being  a  Saturday,  Bruce  was  on  the  watch  the  whole 
afternoon.  From  his  shop-door  he  could  see  all  along  the  street, 
and  a  good  way  beyond  it ;  and  being  very  quick-sighted,  he 
recognized  Marget  at  a  great  distance  by  her  shawl,  as  she  sat 
in  a  slow-nearing  cart. 

"  Annie !  "  he  called,  opening  the  inner  door,  as  he  returned 
behind  the  counter. 

Annie,  who  was  up-stairs  in  her  own  room,  immediately  ap- 
peared. 

"  Annie,"  he  said,  "  rin  oot  at  the  back  door,  and  through 
the  yard,  and  ower  to  Laurie  Luraley's,  and  tell  him  to  come 
ower  to  me  direckly.  Dinna  come  back  withoot  him.  There's 
a  guid  bairn !  " 

He  sent  her  i;pon  this  message,  knowing  well  enough  that 
the  man  had  gone  into  the  country  that  day,  and  that  there 
was  no  one  at  his  house  who  would  be  likely  to  know  where  he 
bad  gone.  He  hoped,  therefore,  that  she  would  go  and  look 
for  him  in  the  town,  and  so  be  absent  during  her  aunt's  visit. 

"  Weel,  Marget,"  he  said,  with  his  customary  greeting,  in 
which  the  foreign  oil  sought  to  overcome  the  home-bred  vinegar, 
"  boo  are  ye  the  day  ?  " 

"  Ow !  nae  that  ill,"  answered  Marget  with  a  sigh. 

"  And  hoo's  Mr  and  Mistress  Peterson  ?  " 

"  Brawly.     Hoo's  Annie  comin'  on  ?  " 

"  Nae  that  ill.     She's  some  royt  (riotous)  jist." 

He  thought  to  please  her  by  the  remark,  because  she  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  saying  so  herself.  But  distance  had  made 
Annie  dearer ;  and  her  aunt's  nose  took  tire  with  indignation, 
as  she  replied : 

"  The  lassie's  weel  eneuch.  /  saw  naething  o'  the  sort  aboot 
her.     Grin  ye  canua  guide  her,  that's  your  wyte." 

Bruce  was  abashed,  but  not  confounded.  He  was  ready  in 
a  moment. 

"  I  never  kent  ony  guid  come  o'  bein'  ower  sair  upo'  bairns," 
said  he.  "  She's  as  easy  guidit  as  a  coo  gaein'  hanie  at  nicht, 
only  ye  maun  jist  lat  her  ken  that  ye're  there,  ye  ken." 

"  Ow  !  ay,"  said  Marget,  a  little  nonplussed  in  her  turn. 

"  Wad  ye  like  to  see  her  ?  " 

"  What  ither  did  I  come  for  ?  " 

"Weel,  I  s'  gang  and  luik  for  her." 

He  went  to  the  back  door,  and  called  aloud :  "  Annie,  yer 
auntie's  here  and  wants  to  see  ye." 

"  She'll  be  here  in  a  minute,"  he  said  to  Marget,  as  he  re- 
entered the  shop. 

After  a  little  more  desultory  conversation,  he  pretended  to 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HO"\VGLEN.  39 

hv  surprised  that  she  did  not  make  her  appearance,  and  going 
once  more  to  the  door,  called  her  name  several  times.  He  then 
pretended  to  search  for  her  in  the  garden  and  all  over  the  house, 
and  returned  with  the  news  that  she  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"She's  feared  tliat  ye're  come  to  tak  her  wi'  ye,  and  she's 
run  awa  oot  aboot  some  gait.  I'll  sen'  the  laddies  to  luik  for 
her." 

"  Na,  na,  never  min'.  Gin  she  disna  want  to  see  me,  I'm 
sure  1  needna  want  to  see  her.  I'll  awa  doon  the  toon,"  said 
Margaret,  her  face  growing  very  red  as  she  spoke. 

She  bustled  out  of  the  shop,  too  angry  with  Annie  to  say 
farewell  to  Bruce.  She  had  not  gone  far,  however,  before  An- 
nie came  running  out  of  a  narrow  close,  almost  into  her  aunt's 
arms.     But  there  was  no  refuge  for  her  there. 

"  Te  little  limmer !  "  cried  Margaret,  seizing  her  by  the 
shoulder,  "  what  gart  ye  rin  awa'  ?    I  dinna  want  ye,  ye  brat !  " 

•'  1  didna  rin  awa'.  Auntie." 

"Kobert  Bruce  cried  on  ye  to  come  in,  himsel'." 

"  It  was  himsel'  that  sent  me  to  Laurie  Lumley's  to  tell  him 
to  come  till  him  direckly." 

Margaret  could  not  make  "  head  or  tail  "  of  it.  But  as  Annie 
had  never  told  her  a  lie,  she  could  not  doubt  her.  So  taking 
time  to  think  about  it,  she  gave  her  some  rough  advice  and  a 
smooth  penny,  and  went  away  on  her  errands.  She  was  not 
long  in  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  Bruce  wanted  to  sunder 
her  and  the  child;  and  this  offended  her  so  much,  that  she  did 
not  go  near  the  shop  for  a  long  time.  Thus  Annie  was  forsaken, 
and  Bruce  had  what  he  wanted. 

He  needed  not  have  been  so  full  of  scheming,  though. 
Aunie  never  said  a  word  to  her  aunt  about  their  treatment  of 
her.  It  is  one  of  the  marvels  in  the  constitution  of  children, 
how  much  they  will  bear  without  complaining.  Parents  and 
guardians  have  no  right  to  suppose  that  all  is  well  in  the 
nursery  or  school-room,  merely  from  the  fact  that  the  children 
do  not  complain.  Servants  and  tutors  may  be  cruel,  and  children 
will  be  silent — partly,  I  presume,  because  they  forget  so  soon. 

But  vengeance  of  a  sort  soon  overtook  Eobert  Bruce  the 
younger  ;  for  the  evil  spirit  in  him,  derived  from  no  such  remote 
ancestor  as  the  king,  would  not  allow  him  a  long  respite  from 
evil-doing,  even  in  school.  He  knew  Annie  better  than  his 
father,  that  she  was  not  likely  to  complain  of  anything,  and 
that  the  only  danger  lay  in  the  chance  of  being  discovered  in 
the  deed.  One  day  when  the  master  had  left  the  room  to 
confer  with  some  visitor  at  the  door,  be  spied  Annie  in  the  act 
of  tying  her  shoe.     Perceiving,  as  he  believed,  at  a  glance,  that 


40  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOW  GLEN. 

Alec  Porbes  was  totally  unobservant,  he  gave  her  an  ignominious 
push  from  behind,  which  threw  her  out  on  her  face  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  floor.  But  Alec  did  catch  sight  of  him  in  the  very 
deed,  was  down  upon  him  in  a  moment,  and,  having  already 
proved  that  a  box  on  the  ear  was  of  no  lasting  effect,  gave  him 
a  downright  good  thrashing.  He  howled  vigorously,  partly  from 
pain,  partly  in  the  hope  that  the  same  cousequences  as  before 
would  overtake  Forbes ;  and  therefore  was  still  howling  when 
Mr  Malison  re-entered. 

"  Robert  Bruce,  come  up,"  bawled  he,  the  moment  he  opened 
the  door. 

And  Eobert  Bruce  went  up,  and  notwithstanding  his  pro- 
testations, received  a  second,  and  far  more  painful  punishment 
from  the  master,  who,  perhaps,  had  been  put  out  of  temper  by 
his  visitor.  But  there  is  no  good  in  speculating  on  that  or  any 
other  possibility  in  the  matter ;  for,  as  far  at  least  as  the  boys 
could  see,  the  master  had  no  fixed  principle  as  to  the  party  on 
whom  the  punishment  should  fall.  Punishment,  in  his  eyes, 
was  perhaps  enough  in  itself.  If  he  was  capable  of  seeing  that 
fvnishment,  as  he  called  it,  falling  on  the  wrong  person,  was  not 
punishment,  but  only  suffering,  certainly  he  had  not  seen  the 
value  of  the  distinction. 

If  Bruce  howled  before,  he  howled  tenfold  now,  andwent  home 
howling.  Annie  was  sorry  for  him,  and  tried  to  say  a  word  of 
comfort  to  him ;  but  he  repelled  her  advances  with  hatred  and 
blows.  As  soon  as  he  reached  the  shop  he  told  his  father  that 
Forbes  had  beaten  him  without  his  having  even  spoken  to  him, 
which  was  as  correct  as  it  was  untrue,  and  that  the  master  had 
taken  Forbes's  jDart,  and  liclced  him  over  again,  of  which  latter 
assertion  there  was  proof  enough  on  his  person.  Bobert  the 
elder  was  instantly  filled  with  smouldering  wrath,  and  from  that 
moment  hated  Alec  Forbes.  For,  like  many  others  of  low 
nature,  he  had  yet  some  animal  affection  for  his  children,  com- 
bined with  an  endless  amount  of  partisanship  on  their  behalf, 
which  latter  gave  him  a  full  right  to  the  national  motto  of 
Scotland.  Indeed,  for  nothing  in  the  world  but  money,  would 
he  have  sacrificed  what  seemed  to  him  their  interests. 

A  man  must  learn  to  love  his  children,  not  because  they  are 
his,  but  because  they  are  children,  else  his  love  will  be  scarcely 
a  better  thing  at  last  than  the  party-spirit  of  the  faithful  poli- 
tician.    I  doubt  if  it  will  prove  even  so  good  a  thing. 

From  this  hatred  to  Alec  Forbes  came  some  small  conse- 
quences at  length.  But  for  the  present  it  found  no  outlet  save 
in  sneers  and  prophetic  hints  of  an  "ill  hinner  en'." 


41 


CHAPTEE  XII. 

In  her  inmost  heart  Annie  dedicated  herself  to  the  service  of 
Alec  Forbes.  Nor  was  it  long  before  she  had  an  opportunity 
of  helping  him. 

One  Saturday  the  master  made  his  appearance  in  black  in- 
stead of  white  stockings,  which  was  regarded  by  the  scholars  as 
a  bad  omen ;  and  fully  were  their  prognostications  justified,  on 
this  occasion,  at  least.  The  joy  of  the  half-holiday  for  Scotch 
boys  and  girls  has  a  terrible  weight  laid  in  the  opposite  scale — 
I  mean  the  other  half  of  the  day.  This  weight,  which  brings 
the  day  pretty  much  on  a  level  with  all  other  days,  consists  in 
a  free  use  of  the  Shorter  Catechism.  This,  of  course,  made 
them  hate  the  Catechism,  though  I  am  not  aware  that  that  was 
of  any  great  consequence,  or  much  to  be  regretted.  Por  my 
part,  I  wish  the  spiritual  engineers  who  constructed  it  had,  after 
laying  the  grandest  foundation-stone  that  truth  could  aftbrd 
them,  glorified  God  by  going  no  further.  Certainly  many  a  man 
would  have  enjoyed  Him  sooner,  if  it  had  not  been  for  their 
work.  But,  alas !  the  Catechism  was  not  enough,  even  of  the 
kind.  The  tormentors  of  youth  had  gone  further,  and  provided 
what  they  called  Scripture  proofs  of  the  various  assertions  of  the 
Catechism  ;  a  support  of  which  it  stood  greatly  in  need.  Alas  ! 
I  say,  for  the  boys  and  girls  who  had  to  learn  these  proofs, 
called  texts  of  Scripture,  but  too  frequently  only  morsels  torn 
bleeding  and  shapeless  from  "  the  lovely  form  of  the  Virgin 
Truth !  "  For  these  tasks,  combined  with  the  pains  and  penal- 
ties which  accompanied  failure,  taught  them  to  dislike  the  Bible 
as  well  as  the  Catechism,  and  that  was  a  matter  of  altogether 
different  import. 

Every  Saturday,  then,  Murdoch  Malison's  pupils  had  to  learn 
so  many  questions  of  the  Shorter  Catechism,  with  proofs  from 
Scripture ;  and  whoever  failed  in  this  task  was  condemmed  to 
imprisonment  for  the  remainder  of  the  day,  or,  at  least,  till  the 
task  should  be  accomplished.  The  imprisonment  was  sometimes 
commuted  for  chastisement — or  finished  ofl"  with  it,  when  it  did 
not  suit  the  convenience  of  the  master  to  enforce  the  full  term 
of  a  school-day.  Upon  certain  Saturdays,  moreover,  one  in  each 
month,  I  think,  a  repetition  was  required  of  all  the  questions 
and  proofs  that  had  been,  or  ought  to  have  been,  learned  since 
the  last  observance  of  the  same  sort. 

Now  the  day  in  question  was  one  of  these  of  accumulated 
labour,  and  Alec  Forbes  only  succeeded  in  bringing  proof  of  his 


42  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLE^!. 

inability  for  the  task,  and  was  in  consequence  condemned  "  to 
be  keepit  in  " — a  trial  hard  enough  for  one  whose  chief  delights 
were  the  open  air  and  the  active  exertion  of  every  bodily  power. 

Annie  caught  sight  of  his  mortified  countenance,  the  expres- 
sion of  which,  though  she  had  not  heard  his  doom,  so  filled  her 
with  concern  and  indignation,  that — her  eyes  and  thoughts  fixed 
upon  him,  at  the  other  end  of  the  class — she  did  not  know  when 
her  turn  came,  but  allowed  the  master  to  stand  before  her  in 
bootless  expectation.  He  did  not  interrupt  her,  but  with  a  re- 
finement of  cruelty  that  ought  to  have  done  him  credit  in  his 
own  eyes,  waited  till  the  universal  silence  had  at  length  aroused 
Annie  to  self-consciousness  and  a  sense  of  annihilating  confusion. 
Then,  with  a  smile  on  his  thin  lips,  but  a  lowering  thunder-cloud 
on  his  brow,  he  repeated  the  question : 

"  What  doth  every  sin  deserve  ?  " 

Annie,  bewildered,  and  burning  with  shame  at  finding  her- 
self the  core  of  the  silence — feeling  as  if  her  poor  little  spirit 
stood  there  naked  to  the  scofts  and  jeers  around — could  not  re- 
call a  word  of  the  answer  given  in  the  Catechism.  So,  in  her 
bewilderment,  she  fell  back  on  her  common  sense  and  experi- 
ence, which,  she  ought  to  have  known,  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  matter  in  hand 

"  What  doth  every  sin  deserve  ?  "  again  repeated  the  tyrant. 

"  A  lickin',''  whimpered  Annie,  and  burst  into  tears. 

The  master  seemed  much  inclined  to  consider  her  condemned 
out  of  her  own  mouth,  and  give  her  a  whipping  at  once  ;  for  it  ar- 
gued more  than  ignorance  to  answer  a  whipping,  instead  of  the 
xorath  and  curse  of  God,  &c.,  &c.,  as  ])lainly  set  down  in  the 
Scotch  Targum.  But  reflecting,  perhaps,  that  she  was  a  girl, 
and  a  little  one,  and  that  although  it  would  be  more  gratification 
to  him  to  whip  her,  it  might  be  equal  suff"ering  to  her  to  be  Jcept 
in,  he  gave  that  side  wave  of  his  head  which  sealed  the  culprit's 
doom,  and  Annie  took  her  place  among  the  condemned,  with  a 
flutter  of  joy  at  her  heart  that  Alec  Forbes  would  not  be  left 
without  a  servant  to  wait  upon  him.  A  few  more  boys  made  up 
the  unfortunate  party,  but  they  were  all  little  ones,  and  so  there 
was  no  companion  for  Forbes,  who  evidently  felt  the  added  de- 
gradation of  being  alone.  The  hour  arrived  ;  the  school  was 
dismissed  ;  the  master  strode  out,  locking  the  door  behind  him  ; 
and  the  defaulters  were  left  alone,  to  chew  the  bitter  cud  of  ill- 
cooked  Theology. 

For  some  time  a  dreary  silence  reigned.  Alec  sat  with  his 
elbows  on  his  desk,  biting  his  nails,  and  gnawing  .his  hands. 
Annie  sat  dividing  her  silent  attention  between  her  book  and 
Alec.     The  other  boys  were,  or  seemed  to  be,  busy  with  their 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  43 

catechisms,  in  the  hope  of  getting  out  as  soon  as  the  master  re- 
turned. At  length  Alec  took  out  his  knife,  and  began,  for  very 
vacancy,  to  whittle  away  at  the  desk  before  him.  When  Annie 
saw  that,  she  crept  across  to  his  form,  and  sat  down  on  the  end 
of  it.  Alec  looked  up  at  her,  smiled,  and  went  on  with  his 
whittling.  Annie  slid  a  little  nearer  to  him,  and  asked  him  to 
hear  her  say  her  catechism.  He  consented,  and  she  repeated 
the  lesson  perfectly. 

"  Now  let  me  hear  you,  Alec,"  she  said. 

"  Na,  thank  ye,  Annie.  I  canna  say't.  And  I  wonna  say't 
for  a'  the  dominies  in  creation." 

"  But  he'll  lick  ye.  Alec  ;  an'  I  'canna  bide  it,"  said  Annie, 
the  tears  beginning  to  fill  her  eyes. 

"  Weel,  I'll  try — to  please  you,  Annie,"  said  Alec,  seeing 
that  the  little  thing  was  in  earnest. 

How  her  heart  bounded  with  delight !  That  great  boy,  so 
strong  and  so  brave,  trj'ing  to  learn  a  lesson  to  please  her ! 

But  it  would  not  do. 

"  I  canna  min'  a  word  o'  't,  Annie.  I'm  dreidfu'  hungry, 
forbye.  I  was  in  a  hurry  wi'  my  brakfast  the  day.  Gin  I  had 
kent  what  was  comin',  I  wad  hae  laid  in  a  better  stock,"  he 
added,  laughing  rather  drearily. 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  up  ;  and  his  eyes  wandered  from 
one  window  to  another  for  a  few  moments  after  he  had  ceased 
speaking. 

"  Na  ;  it's  no  use,"  he  resumed  at  last.  "  I  hae  eaten  ower 
muckle  for  that,  ony  gait." 

Annie  was  as  pitiful  over  Alec's  hunger  as  any  mother  over 
her  child's.  She  felt  it  pure  injustice  that  he  should  ever  be 
hungry.     But,  unable  to  devise  any  help,  she  could  only  say, 

"  I  dinna  ken  what  ye  mean.  Alec." 

"  Whan  I  was  na  bigger  than  you,  Annie,  I  could  win  oot 
at  a  less  hole  than  that,"  answered  he,  and  pointed  to  the  open 
wooden  pane  in  an  upper  corner  of  one  the  windows  ;  "  but  I 
hae  eaten  ower  muckle  sin  syne." 

And  he  laughed  again;  but  it  was  again  an  unsuccessful  laugh. 

Annie  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  Gin  ye  could  win  throu  that  hole  ance,  I  can  win  throu't 
noo.  Alec.     Jist  baud  me  up  a  bit.     Ye  can  lift  me,  ye  ken." 

And  she  looked  up  at  him  shyl^y  and  gratefully. 

"  But  what  will  ye  do  when  ye  are  oot,  Annie  ?  " 

"  Ein  hame,  and  fess  a  loaf  wi'  me  direckly." 
"  But  Eob  Bruce'll  see  yer  heid  atween  yer  feet  afore  he'll 
gie  ye  a  loaf,  or  a  mou'fu'  o'  cakes  either  ;  an'  it's  ower  far  to 
rin  to  my  mither's.     Murdoch  wad  be  back  lang  or  that." 


44  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Jist  help  me  cot,  an'  lea'  the  lave  to  me,"  said  Annie, 
confidently.  "  Grin  I  dinna  fess  a  loaf  o'  white  breid,  never 
lippen  {trust)  to  me  again." 

The  idea  of  the  bread,  always  a  rarity  and  consequent  deli- 
cacy to  Scotch  country  boys,  so  early  in  the  century  as  the 
date  of  my  story,  was  too  much  for  Alec's  imagination.  He 
jumped  up,  and  put  his  head  out  of  one  of  those  open  panes  to 
reconnoitre.     He  saw  a  woman  approaching  whom  he  knew. 

"I  say,  Lizzie,"  he  culled. 

The  woman  stopped. 

"  What's  yer  wall,  Maister  Alec  ?  " 

"  Jist  stan'  there  an'  pu'  this  lassie  oot.  "We're  a'  keepit  in 
thegither,  and  nearhan'  hungert." 

"  The  Lord  preserve  's !     I'll  gang  for  the  key.' 

"  Na,  na  ;  toe  wad  hae  to  pay  for  that.  Tak  her  oot — ^that's 
a'  we  want." 

"  He's  a  coorse  crayter — that  maister  o'  yours.  I  wad  gang 
to  see  him  hangt." 

"  Bide  a  wee;  that'll  come  in  guid  time,"  said  Alec,  pseudo- 
prophetically. 

"  AVeel  I  s'  hae  a  pu'  at  the  legs  o'  him,  to  help  him  to 
jeedgement ;  for  he'll  be  the  deith  o'  ane  or  twa  o'  ye  afore  lang." 

"  Never  miu'  Murder  Malison.  Will  ye  tak  oot  the  bit 
lassie  ?  " 

"  Od  will  I !     Whaur  is  she  ?  " 

Alec  jumped  down  and  held  her  up  to  the  open  pane,  not  a 
foot  square.  He  told  her  to  put  her  arms  through  first.  Then 
between  them  they  got  her  head  through,  whereupon  Lizzie 
caught  hold  of  her — so  low  was  the  school-room — and  dragged 
her  out,  and  set  her  on  her  feet.  But  alas,  a  window  was  broken 
in  the  process ! 

"Noo,  Annie,"  cried  Alec,  "never  min'  the  window.     Ein." 

She  was  off"  like  a  live  bullet. 

She  scampered  home  prei)ared  to  encounter  all  dangers.  The 
worst  of  them  all  to  her  mind  was  the  danger  of  not  succeeding, 
and  of  so  breaking  faith  with  Alec.  She  had  sixpence  of  her 
own  in  coppers  in  her  box, — the  only  difficulty  was  to  get  into 
the  house  and  out  again  without  being  seen.  By  employing 
the  utmost  care  and  circumspection,  she  got  in  by  the  back 
or  house  door  unperceived,  and  so  up  to  her  room.  In  a 
moment  more  the  six  pennies  were  in  her  hand,  and  she  in  the 
street ;  for  she  did  not  use  the  same  amount  of  precaution  in 
getting  out  again,  not  minding  discovery  so  much  now,  if  she 
could  only  have  a  fair  start.  No  one  followed  her,  however. 
She  bolted  into  a  baker's  shop. 


AI,EC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  45 

"  A  saxpenny-loaf,"  she  panted  out. 
"  Wha  wants  it  ?  "  asked  the  baker's  wife. 
"  There's  the  bawbees,"  answered  Annie,  laying  them  on  the 
counter. 

The  baker's  wife  gave  her  the  loaf,  with  the  biscuit  which, 
from  time  immemorial,  had  always  graced  a  purchase  to  the 
amount  of  sixpence ;  and  Annie  sped  back  to  the  school  like  a 
runaway  horse  to  his  stable. 

As  she  approached,  out  popped  the  head  of  Alec  Forbes. 
He  had  been  listening  for  the  sound  of  her  feet.  She  held  up 
the  loaf  as  high  as  she  could,  and  he  stretched  down  as  low  as 
he  could,  and  so  their  hands  met  on  the  loaf. 

"  Thank  ye,  Annie,"  said  Alec  with  earnestness.  "  I  shanna 
forget  this.     Hoo  got  ye't  ?  " 

"  'Never  ye  min'  that.  I  didna  steal't,"  answered  Annie. 
"  But  I  maun  win  in  again,"  she  added,  suddenly  awaking  to 
that  difficult  necessity,  and  looking  up  at  the  window  above  her 
head. 

"  I'm    a   predestined  idiot ! "  said  Alec,  with  an    impious 
allusion  to  the  Shorter  Catechism,  as  he  scratched  his  helpless 
head.     "  I  never  thocht  o'  that." 
It  w^as  clearly  impossible. 

"  Te'll  catch't,"  said  one  of  the  urchins  to  Annie,  with  his 
nose  flattened  against  the  window. 

The  roses  of  Annie ^s  face  turned  pale,  but  she  answered 
stoutly, 

"  Weel !  I  care  as  little  as  the  lave  o'  ye,  I'm  thinkin'." 
By  this  time  the  "  idiot "  had  made  up  his  mind.    He  never 
could  make  up  any  other  than  a  bull-headed  mind. 

"  Ein  hame,  Annie,"  he  said  ;  "and  gin  Murder  offers  to  lay 
a  finger  o'  ye  upo'  Monday,  I'll  murder  him.     Faith !  I'll  kill 
him.     Ein  hame  afore  he  comes  and  catches  ye  at  the  window." 
"  No,  no.  Alec,"  pleaded  Annie. 

"  Hand  yer  tongue,"  interrupted  Alec,  "and  rin,  will  ye  ?  " 
Seeing  he  was  quite  determined,  Annie,  though  loath  to  leave 
him,  and  in  terror  of  what  was  implied  in  the  threats  he  uttered 
against  the  master  and  might  be  involved  in  the  execution  of 
them,  obeyed  him  and  walked  leisurely  home,  avoiding  the 
quarters  in  which  there  was  a  chance  of  meeting  her  gaoler. 

She  found  that  no  one  had  observed  her  former  visit ;  the 
only  remarks  made  being  some  goody  ones  about  the  disgrace  of 
being  kept  in. 

When  Mr  Malison  returned  to  the  school  about  four  o'clock, 
he  found  all  quiet  as  death.  The  boys  appeared  totally  absorbed 
in  committing  the  Shorter  Catechism,  as  if  the  Shorter  Catechism 


46  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

was  a  sin,  which  perhaps  it  was  not.  But,  to  his  surprise,  which 
he  pretended  to  be  considerably  greater  than  it  really  w  as,  the 
girl  was  absent. 

"  Where  is  Ann  Anderson  r  "  were  the  first  words  he  con- 
descended to  utter. 

"  Gane  hame,"  cried  two  of  the  little  prisoners. 

"  Grone  home !  "  echoed  the  master  in  a  tone  of  savage  in- 
credulity ;  although  not  only  was  it  plain  that  she  was  gone, 
but  he  must  have  known  well  enough,  from  former  experience, 
how  her  escape  had  been  effected. 

"Yes,"  said  Forbes;  "it  was  me  made  her  go.  I  put  her 
out  at  the  window.  And  I  broke  the  window,"  he  added,  know- 
ing that  it  must  soon  be  found  out,  "but  I'll  get  it  mended  on 
Monday." 

Malison  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet  with  venomous  rage. 
Indeed,  the  hopelessnes3  of  the  situation  had  made  Alec  speak 
with  too  much  nonchalance. 

Anxious  to  curry  favour,  the  third  youngster  now  called  out, 

"  Saudy  Forbes  gart  her  gang  an'  fess  a  loaf  o'  white  breid." 

Of  this  bread,  the  wretched  informer  had  still  some  of  the 
crumbs  sticking  to  his  jacket — so  vitiatiug  is  the  influence  of  a 
reign  of  terror.  The  bread  was  eaten,  and  the  giver  might  be 
betrayed  in  the  hope  of  gaining  a  little  favour  with  the  tyrant. 

"  Alexander  Forbes,  come  up." 

Beyond  this  point  I  will  not  here  prosecute  the  narrative. 

Alec  bore  his  punishment  with  great  firmness,  although  there 
were  few  beholders,  and  uone  of  them  worth  considering.  After 
he  had  spent  his  wrath,  tlie  master  allowed  them  all  to  depart 
without  further  reference  to  the  Shorter  Catechism. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


The  Sunday  following  was  anything  but  a  day  of  repose 
for  Annie — she  looked  with  such  frightful  anticipation  to  the 
coming  Monday.  jVor  was  the  assurance  with  which  Alec 
Forbes  had  sent"  her  away,  and  which  she  was  far  from  forgetting, 
by  any  means  productive  of  umiiinglcd  consolation ;  for,  in  a 
conflict  with  such  a  power  of  darkness  as  Mr  Malison,  how  could 
Alec,  even  if  sure  to  be  victorious  as  any  knight  of  old  story, 
come  oft"  without  injury  terrible  and  rot  to  be  contemplated ! 
Yet,  strange  to  tell — or  was  it  really  strange  ? — as  she  listened 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWOLEN.  47 

to  the  evening  sermon,  a  sermon  quietly  and  gently  enforcing 
the  fate  of  the  ungodly,  it  was  not  with  exultation  at  the  tardy 
justice  that  would  overtake  such  men  as  Murdock  Malison  or 
Robert  Bruce,  nor  yet  with  pity  for  their  fate,  that  she  listened ; 
but  with  anxious  heart-aching  fear  for  her  friend,  the  noble,  the 
generous  Alec  Forbes,  who  withstood  authority,  and  was  there- 
fore in  danger  of  hell-fire.  About  her  own  doom,  speculation 
was  uninteresting. 

The  awful  morning  dawned.  When  she  woke,  and  the 
thouglit  of  what  she  had  to  meet  came  back  on  her,  though  it 
could  hardly  be  said  to  have  been  a  moment  absent  all  night  long, 
she  turned,  not  metaphorically,  but  physically  sick.  Yet  break- 
fast time  would  come,  and  worship  did  not  fail  to  follow,  and 
then  to  school  she  must  go.  There  all  went  on  as  usual  for 
some  time.  The  Bible-cla^*s  was  called  up,  heard,  and  dismissed  ; 
and  Annie  was  beginning  to  hope  that  the  whole  affair  was 
somehow  or  other  wrapt  up  and  laid  by.  She  had  heard  nothing 
of  Alec's  fate  after  she  had  left  him  imprisoned,  and  except  a 
certain  stoniness  in  his  look,  which  a  single  glance  discovered, 
his  face  gave  no  sign.  She  dared  not  lift  her  eyes  from  the 
Bpelling-book  before  her,  to  look  in  the  direction  of  the  master. 
ISo  murderer  could  have  felt  more  keenly  as  if  all  the  universe 
were  one  eye,  and  that  eye  fixed  on  liim,  than  Annie. 

Suddenly  the  awful  voice  resounded  through  the  school,  and 
the  words  it  uttered — though  even  after  she  heard  them  it 
seemed  too  terrible  to  be  true — were, 

"  Ann  Anderson,  come  up." 

For  a  moment  she  lost  consciousness — or  at  least  memory. 
When  she  recovered  herself,  she  found  herself  standing  before 
the  master.  His  voice  seemed  to  have  left  two  or  three  un- 
answered questions  somewhere  in  her  head.  What  they  were 
she  had  no  idea.  But  presently  he  spoke  again,  and,  from  the 
tone,  what  he  said  was  evidently  the  repetition  of  a  question — 
probably  put  more  than  once  before. 

"  Did  you,  or  did  you  not,  go  out  at  the  window  on  Satur- 
day r  " 

blie  did  not  see  that  Alec  Forbes  had  left  his  seat,  and  was 
slowly  lessening  the  distance  between  them  and  him. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Did  you,  or  did  you  not,  bring  a  loaf  of  bread  to  those  who 
were  kept  in  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Where  did  you  get  it  r  " 

"  I  bought  it,  sir." 

"  Where  did  you  get  the  money  j*  " 


48  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEIST. 

Of  course  every  eye  iu  the  school  was  fixed  upon  her,  those 
of  her  cousins  sparkling  with  delight. 

"  I  got  it  oot  o'  my  aiu  kist,  sir." 

"  Hold  up  your  hand." 

Annie  obeyed,  with  a  most  pathetic  dumb  terror  pleading  in 
her  face. 

"  Don't  touch  her,"  said  Alec  Forbes,  stepping  between  the 
executioner  and  his  victim.  "  You  know  well  enough  it  was  all 
my  fault.     I  told  you  so  on  Saturday." 

Murder  Malison,  as  the  boys  called  him,  turned  with  the 
tawse  over  his  shoulder,  whence  it  had  been  on  the  point  of 
swooping  upon  Annie,  and  answered  him  with  a  hissing  blow 
over  his  down-bent  head,  followed  by  a  succession  of  furious 
blows  upon  every  part  of  his  person,  as  it  twisted  and  writhed 
and  doubled  ;  till,  making  no  attempt  at  resistance,  he  was 
knocked  down  by  the  storm,  and  lay  prostrate  under  the  fierce 
lashes,  the  master  holding  him  down  with  one  foot,  and  laying  on 
with  the  whole  force  of  the  opposite  arm.  At  length  Malison 
stopped,  exhausted,  and  turning,  white  with  rage,  towards  Annie, 
who  was  almost  in  a  fit  with  agony,  repeated  the  order : 

"  Hold  up  your  hand." 

But  as  he  turned  Alec  bounded  to  his  feet,  his  face  glowing, 
and  his  eyes  flashing,  and  getting  round  in  front,  sprang  at  the 
master's  throat,  just  as  the  tawse  was  descending.  Malison 
threw  him  off",  and  lifting  his  weapon  once  more,  swept  it  with  a 
stinging  lash  round  his  head  and  face.  Alec,  feeling  that  this 
was  no  occasion  on  which  to  regard  the  rules  of  fair  fight, 
stooped  his  head,  and  rushed,  like  a  ram,  or  a  negro,  full  tilt 
against  the  pit  of  Malison's  stomach,  and  doubling  him  up,  sent 
him  with  a  crash  into  the  peat  fire  which  was  glowing  on  the 
hearth.  In  the  attempt  to  save  himself,  he  thrust  his  hand 
right  into  it,  and  Alec  and  Annie  were  avenged. 

Alec  rushed  to  drag  him  ofl"  the  fire ;  but  he  was  up  before 
he  reached  him. 

"  Go  home !  "  he  bawled  to  the  scholars  generally,  and  sat 
down  at  his  desk  to  hide  his  suftering. 

For  one  brief  moment  there  was  silence.  Then  a  tumult 
arose,  a  shouting,  and  holloing,  and  screeching,  and  the  whole 
school  rushed  to  the  door,  as  if  the  devil  had  been  after  them  to 
catch  the  hindmost.  Strange  uproar  invaded  the  ears  of  Glamer- 
ton — strange,  that  is,  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  of  Mon- 
day-— the  uproar  of  jubilant  freedom. 

But  the  culprits,  Annie  and  Alec,  stood  and  stared  at  the 
master,  whose  face  was  covered  with  one  hand,  while  the  other 
hung  helpless  at  his  side.     Annie  stopped  partly  out  of  pity  for 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  49 

the  despot,  and  partly  because  Alec  stopped.  Alec  stopped  be- 
cause he  Avas  the  author  of  the  situation— at  least  he  never  could 
give  any  better  reason. 

At  length  ]\Ir  Malison  lifted  his  head,  and  made  a  movement 
towards  his  hat.  He  started  when  he  saw  the  two  standing  there. 
But  the  moment  he  looked  at  them  their  courage  failed  them. 

"Ein,  Annie!  "  said  Alee. 

Away  she  bolted,  and  he  after  her,  as  well  as  he  could,  which 
was  not  with  his  usual  fleetness  by  any  means.  When  Annie 
had  rounded  a  corner,  not  in  the  master's  way  home,  she  stopped, 
and  looked  back  for  Alec.  He  was  a  good  many  paces  behind 
her ;  and  then  fir.'^t  she  discovered  the  condition  of  her  cham- 
pion. For  now  that  the  excitement  was  over,  he  could  scarcely 
walk,  and  evidence  in  kind  was  not  wanting  that  from  head  to 
foot  he  must  be  one  mass  of  wales  and  bruises.  He  put  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder  to  help  him  along,  and  made  no  opposi- 
tion to  her  accompanving  him  as  far  as  the  gate  of  his  mother's 
garden,  which  was  nearly  a  mile  from  the  town,  on  the  further 
bank  of  one  of  the  rivers  watering  the  valley-plain  in  which 
Glamerton  had  stood  for  hundreds  of  years.  Then  she  went 
slowly  home,  bearing  with  her  the  memory  of  the  smile  which, 
in  spite  of  pain,  had  illuminated  his  tawse-waled  cheeks,  as  she 
took  her  leave. 

"  Grood-bye,  dear  Alec  !  "  she  had  said. 

"  Good-bye,  Annie  dear,"  he  had  answered,  with  the  smile ; 
and  she  had  watched  him  crawl  into  the  house  before  she  turned 
away. 

When  she  got  home,  she  saw  at  once,  from  the  black  looks 
of  the  Bruce,  that  the  story,  whether  in  its  true  shape  or  not, 
had  arrived  before  her. 

Nothing  was  said,  however,  till  after  worship ;  when  Bruce 
gave  her  a  long  lecture,  as  impressive  as  the  creature  was 
capable  of  making  it,  on  the  wickedness  and  certain  punishment 
of  "  takin'  up  wi'  ill  loons  like  Sandy  Forbes,  wha  was  brakin' 
his  mither's  hert  wi'  his  baad  behaviour."  But  he  came  to  the 
conclusion,  as  he  confided  to  his  wife  that  night,  that  the  lassie 
"was  growin'  hardent  already  ;  "  probably  from  her  being  in  a 
state  of  too  great  excitement  from  the  events  of  the  day  to 
waste  a  tear  upon  his  lecture ;  for,  as  she  said  in  the  hearing  of 
the  rottans,  when  she  went  up  to  bed,  she  "  didna  care  a  flee 
for  't."  But  the  moment  she  lay  down  she  fell  to  weeping  bitterly 
over  the  sufferings  of  Alec.  She  was  asleep  in  a  moment  after, 
however.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  power  of  sleeping  that 
there  was  in  the  child,  she  must  long  before  now  have  given 
way  to  the  hostile  influences  around  her,  and  died. 

4 


50  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

There  was  considerable  excitement  about  the  Hearths  of 
Glamerton,  generally,  in  consequence  of  the  news  of  the  mas- 
ter's defeat  carried  home  by  the  children.  For,  although  it 
was  amazing  how  little  of  the  doings  at  school  the  children  were 
in  the  habit  of  reporting — so  little,  indeed,  that  this  account  in- 
volved revelations  of  the  character  and  proceedings  of  Mr  Mali- 
son which  appeared  to  many  of  the  parents  quite  incredible — 
the  present  occurrence  so  far  surpassed  the  ordinary,  and  had 
excited  the  beholders  so  much,  that  they  could  not  be  quiet 
about  it.  Various  were  the  judgments  elicited  by  the  story. 
The  religious  portion  of  the  community  seemed  to  their  chil- 
dren to  side  with  the  master ;  the  worldly — namely,  those  who 
did  not  profess  to  be  particularly  religious — all  sided  with  Alec 
Forbes  ;  with  the  exception  of  a  fish-cadger,  who  had  one  son, 
the  plague  of  his  life. 

Amongst  the  religious,  there  was,  at  least,  one  exception, 
too;  but  he  had  no  children  of  his  own,  and  had  a  fancy  for 
Alec  Forbes,  That  exception  was  Thomas  Crann,  the  stone- 
mason. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


Thomas  Ceann  was  building  a  house ;  for  he  was  both  con- 
tractor— in  a  small  way,  it  is  true,  not  undertaking  to  do  any- 
thing without  the  advance  of  a  good  part  of  the  estimate — and 
day-labourer  at  his  own  job.  Having  arrived  at  the  point  in 
the  process  where  the  assistance  of  a  carpenter  was  necessary, 
he  went  to  George  Macwha,  whom  he  found  at  his  bench, 
planing.  This  bench  was  in  a  work-shop,  with  two  or  three 
more  benches  in  it,  some  deals  set  up  against  the  wall,  a  couple 
of  red  cart-wheels  sent  in  for  repair,  and  the  tools  and  materials 
of  his  trade  all  about.  The  floor  was  covered  with  shavings,  or 
spales,  as  they  are  called  by  northern  consent,  which  a  poor 
woman  was  busy  gathering  into  a  sack.  After  a  shoi't  and  gruff 
greeting  on  the  part  of  Crann,  and  a  more  cordial  reply  from 
Macwha,  who  ceased  his  labour  to  attend  to  his  visitor,  they  en- 
tered on  the  business-question,  which  having  been  carefully  and 
satisfactorily  discussed,  with  the  aid  of  various  diagrams  upon 
the  half-planed  deal,  Macwha  returned  to  his  work,  and  the  con- 
versation took  a  more  general  scope,  accompanied  by  the  sounds 
of  Macwha's  busy  instrument. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  51 

"A  terrible  laddie,  that  Sandy  Forbes  !  "  said  the  carpenter, 
with  a  sort  of  laugh  in  the  tchishk  of  his  plane,  as  he  threw  off  a 
splendid  spale.  "  They  say  he's  lickit  the  dominie,  and  'maist 
been  the  deid  o'  him." 

"  I  hae  kent  waur  laddies  nor  Sandy  Forbes,"  was  Thomas's 
curt  reply. 

"  Ow,  deed  ay  !  I  ken  naething  agen  the  laddie.  Him  an'  oor 
"Willie's  unco  throng." 

To  this  the  sole  answer  Thomas  gave  was  a  grunt,  and  a  silence 
of  a  few  seconds  followed  before  he  spoke,  reverting  to  the  point 
from  which  they  had  started. 

"  I'm  no  clear  but  Alec  micht  hae  committed  a  waur  sin  than 
thrashin'  the  dominie.  He's  a  dour  crater,  that  Murdoch  Mali 
son,  wi'  his  fair  face  and  his  picket  words.  I  doot  the  bairns 
hae  the  warst  o'  't  in  general.  And  for  Alec  I  hae  great  houpes. 
He  comes  o'  a  guid  stock.  His  father,  honest  man,  was  ane  o' 
the  Lord's  aiu,  although  he  didna  mak'  sic  a  stan'  as,  maybe,  he 
ought  to  hae  dune ;  and  gin  his  mither  has  been  jist  raither  saft 
wi'  him,  and  gi'en  him  ower  lang  a  tether,  he'll  come  a'  richt 
afore  lang,  for  he's  worth  luikin  efter." 

"  I  dinua  richtly  unnerstan'  ye,  Thamas." 

"  I  dinna  think  the  Lord  '11  tyne  the  grip  o'  his  father's  son. 
He's  no  convertit  yet,  but  he's  weel  worth  eonvertin',  for  there's 
guid  stuff  in  him." 

Thomas  did  not  consider  how  his  common  sense  was  running 
away  with  his  theology.  But  Macwha  was  not  the  man  to 
bring  him  to  book  on  that  score.  His  only  reply  lay  in  the 
careless  ivhishk  whashk  of  his  plane.     Thomas  resumed  : 

'•  He  jist  wants  what  ye  want,  George  Macwha." 

"  What's  that,  Thamas  ?  "  asked  George,  with  a  grim  attempt 
at  a  smile,  as  if  to  say :  "  I  know  what's  coming,  but  I'm  not 
going  to  mind  it." 

"  He  jist  wants  to  be  weel  shaken  ower  the  mou'  o'  the  pit. 
He  maun  smell  the  brunstane  o'  the  everlastin'  burniu's.  He's 
nane  o'  yer  saft  buirds,  that  ye  can  sleek  wi'  a  sweyp  o'  yer 
airm  ;  he's  a  blue  whunstane  that's  hard  to  dress,  but,  anes 
dressed,  it  bides  the  weather  bonnie.  I  like  to  work  upo'  hard 
staue  mysel.  Nana  o'  yer  saft  freestane,  'at  ye  cud  cut  wi'  a 
k-nife.  for  me  !  " 

"  Weel,  I  daursay  ye're  richt,  Thamas." 

"  And,  forbye,  they  say  he  took  a'  his  ain  licks  ohn  said  a 
word,  and  flew  at  the  maister  only  whan  he  was  gaein  to  lick 
the  puir  orphan  lassie — Jeames  Anderson's  lassie,  ye  ken." 

"  Ow  !  ay.  It's  the  same- tale  they  a'  tell,  I  hae  nae  doobt 
it's  correck," 


52  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

"  Weel,  lat  him  tak  it,  than,  an'  be  thankfu'  !  for  it's  no 
more  than  •was  weel  waured  {spent)  on  him." 

With  these  conclusive  words,  Thomas  departed.  He  was  no 
sooner  out  of  the  shop,  than  out  started,  from  behind  the  deal 
boards  that  stood  against  the  wall,  Willie,  the  eldest  hope  of 
the  house  of  Macwha,  a  dusky-skinned,  black-eyed,  curh'-headed, 
roguish-looking  boy.  Alec  Forbes's  companion  and  occasional 
accomplice.  He  was  more  mischievous  than  Alec,  and  some- 
times led  him  into  unforeseen  scrapes  ;  but  whenever  anything 
extensive  had  to  be  executed.  Alec  was  always  the  leader. 

"  What  are  ye  hidin'  for,  ye  rascal  ? "  said  his  father. 
"  What  mischeef  hae  ye  been  efter  noo  ?  " 

"  Naething  by  ordinar',"  was  Willie's  cool  reply. 

"  AVhat  garred  ye  hide,  than  ?  " 

"  Tam  Crann  never  sets  ee  upo'  nie,  but  he  misca's  me,  an' 
I  dinna  like  to  be  misca'd,  mair  nor  ither  fowk." 

"  Te  get  nae  maimer  ye  deserve,  I  doobt,"  returned  Greorge. 
"  Here,  tak  the  chisel,  and  cut  that  beadin'  into  len'ths." 

"  I'm  gaein'  ower  the  water  to  speir  efter  Alec,"  was  the 
excusatoiy  rejoinder. 

"  Ay,  ay  !  pot  and  pan! — What  ails  Alec  noo  ?  " 

"  Mr  Malison's  nearhan'  killed  him.  He  hasna  been  at  the 
schuil  this  twa  days." 

With  these  words  Willie  bolted  from  the  shop,  and  set  off 
at  full  speed.  The  latter  part  of  his  statement  was  perfectly 
true. 

The  day  after  the  fight,  Mr  Malison  came  to  the  school  as 
usual,  but  with  his  arm  in  a  sling.  To  Annie's  dismay,  Alec  did 
not  make  his  appearance. 

It  had  of  course  been  impossible  to  conceal  his  corporal 
condition  from  his  mother;  and  the  heart  of  the  widow  so 
yearned  over  the  suffering  of  her  son,  though  no  confession  of 
suffering  escaped  Alec's  lips,  that  she  vowed  in  auger  that  he 
should  never  cross  the  door  of  that  school  again.  For  three  or 
four  days  she  held  immovably  to  her  resolution,  much  to  Alec's 
annoyance,  and  to  the  consternation  of  Mr  Malison,  who  feared 
that  he  had  not  only  lost  a  pupil,  but  made  an  enemy.  For 
Mr  Malison  had  every  reason  for  being  as  smooth-faced  with 
the  parents  as  he  always  was  :  he  liad  ulterior  ho])es  in  Glamer- 
ton.  The  clergyman  was  getting  old,  and  Mr  Malison  was  a 
licentiate  of  the  Church  ;  and  although  the  people  had  no  direct 
voice  in  the  filling  of  the  pulpit,  it  was  very  desirable  that  a 
candidate  should  havenoue  but  friends  in  the  jiarish. 

Mr  Malison  made  no  allusion  whatever  to  the  events  of 
Monday,  and  things  went  on  as  usual  in  the  school,  with  just 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  53 

one  exception :  for  a  whole  week  the  tawse  did  not  make  its 
appearance.  This  was  owing  in  part  at  least  to  the  state  of  his 
hand  ;  but  if  he  had  ever  wished  to  be  freed  from  the  necessity 
of  using  the  lash,  he  might  have  derived  hope  from  the  fact  that 
somehow  or  other  the  boys  were  during  this  week  no  worse 
than  usual.  I  do  not  pretend  to  explain  the  fact,  and  beg 
leave  to  refer  it  to  occult  meteorological  influences. 

As  soon  as  school  was  over  on  that  first  day  of  Alec's 
absence,  Annie  darted  off  on  the  road  to  Howglen,  where  he 
lived,  and  never  dropped  into  a  walk  till  she  reached  the  garden- 
gate.  PuUy  conscious  of  the  inferiority  of  her  position,  she 
went  to  the  kitchen  door.  The  door  was  opened  to  her  knock 
before  she  had  recovered  breatli  enough  to  speak.  The  servant, 
seeing  a  girl  with  a  shabby  dress,  and  a  dirty  bonnet,  from  under- 
neath wliich  hung  disorderly  masses  of  hair — they  would  have 
glinted  in  the  eye  of  the  sun,  but  in  the  eye  of  the  maid  they 
looked  only  dusky  and  disreputable — for  Annie  was  not  kept  so 
tidy  on  the  interest  of  her  money  as  she  had  been  at  the  farm — 
the  girl,  I  say,  seeing  this,  and  finding  besides,  as  she  thought, 
that  Annie  had  nothing  to  say,  took  her  for  a  beggar,  and 
returning  into  the  kitchen,  brought  her  a  piece  of  oat-cake,  the 
common  dole  to  the  young  meudicants  of  the  time.  Annie's 
face  flushed  crimson,  but  she  said  gently,  having  by  this  tune 
got  her  runaway  breath  a  little  more  under  control, 

"  No,  I  thank  ye  ;  I'm  no  a  beggar.  I  only  wanted  to  ken 
hoo  Alec  was  the  day." 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  girl,  anxious  to  make  some  amends  for 
her  blunder,  "  and  I'll  tell  the  mistress." 

Annie  would  gladly  have  objected,  contenting  herself  with 
the  maid's  own  account ;  but  she  felt  rather  than  understood 
that  there  would  be  something  undignified  in  refusing  to  face 
Alec's  mother  ;  so  she  followed  the  maid  into  the  kitchen,  and 
sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a  wooden  chair,  like  a  perching  bird, 
till  she  should  return. 

"  Please,  mem,  here's  a  lassie  wantin'  to  ken  hoo  Maister 
Alec  is  the  day,"  said  Mary,  with  the  handle  of  the  parlour  door 
in  her  hand. 

"  That  must  be  little  Annie  Anderson,  mamma,"  said  Alec, 
who  was  lying  on  the  sofa  very  comfortable,  considering  what 
he  had  to  lie  upon. 

It  may  be  guessed  at  once  that  Scotch  was  quite  discouraged 
at  home. 

Alec  had  told  his  mother  all  about  the  affair ;  and  some  of 
her  friends  from  Glamerton,  who  likewise  had  sons  at  the 
school,  had  called  and  given  their  versions  of  the  story,  in  which 


54  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

the  prowess  of  Alec  was  made  more  of  than  in  his  own  account. 
Indeed,  all  his  fellow-scholars  except  the  young  Bruces,  sung 
his  praises  aloud  ;  for,  whatever  the  degree  of  their  affection  for 
Alec,  every  one  of  them  hated  the  master — a  terrible  thought 
for  him,  if  he  had  been  able  to  appreciate  it ;  but  I  do  not 
believe  he  had  any  suspicion  of  the  fact  that  he  was  the  centre 
of  converging  thoughts  of  revengeful  dislike.  So  the  mother 
was  proud  of  her  boy — far  prouder  than  she  was  willing  for  him 
to  see  :  indeed,  she  put  on  the  guise  of  the  offended  proprieties 
as  much  as  she  could  in  his  presence,  thus  making  Alec  feel  like 
a  culprit  in  hers,  which  was  more  than  she  intended,  or  would 
have  liked,  could  she  have  peeped  into  his  mind.  So  she  could 
not  help  feeling  some  interest  in  Annie,  and  some  curiosity  to 
see  her.  She  had  known  James  Anderson,  her  father,  and  he 
had  been  her  guest  more  than  once  when  he  had  called  upon 
business.  Everybody  had  liked  him  ;  and  this  general  appro- 
bation was  owing  to  no  lack  of  character,  but  to  his  genuine 
kindness  of  heart.  So  Mrs  Forbes  was  prejudiced  in  Annie's 
favour — but  far  more  by  her  own  recollections  of  the  father, 
than  by  her  son's  representations  of  the  daughter. 
"  Tell  her  to  come  up,  INIary,"  she  said. 

So  Annie,  with  all  tlie  disorganization  of  school  about  her, 
was  sho-mi,  considerably  to  her  discomfort,  into  Mrs  Forbes's 
dining-room. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  the  room  ;  but  to  Annie's 
eyes  it  seemed  magnificent,  for  carpet  and  curtains,  sideboard 
and  sofa,  were  luxuries  altogether  strange  to  her  eyes.  So  she 
entered  very  timidly,  and  stood  trembling  and  pale — for  she 
rarely  blushed  except  when  angry — close  to  the  door.  But 
Alec  scrambled  from  the  sofa,  and  taking  hold  of  her  by  both 
hands,  pulled  her  up  to  his  mother. 
"  There  she  is,  mamma  !  "  he  said. 

And  Mrs  Forbes,  although  her  sense  of  the  fitness  of  things 
was  not  gratified  at  seeing  her  son  treat  with  such  familiarity  a 
girl  so  neglectedly  attired,  yet  received  her  kindly  and  shook 
hands  with  her. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Annie  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  ye,  mem,"  answered  Annie,  showing 
in  her  voice  that  she  was  overawed  by  the  grand  lady,  yet  mis- 
tress enougli  of  her  manners  not  to  forget  a  pretty  modest 
courtesy  as  she  spoke. 

"  AVhat's  gaein'  on  at  the  school  the  day,  Annie  ?  "  asked 
Alec.  . 

"  Naething  by  ordinar,"  answered  Annie,  the  sweetness  of 
her  tones  contrasting  with  the  roughness  of  the  dialect.     "  The 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX.  55 

maister's  a  hantle  quaieter  than  usual.     I  fancy  he's  a'  the  bet- 
ter behaved  for's  brunt  fingers.     But,  oh,  Alec !  " 

And  here  the  little  maiden  burst  into  a  passionate  fit  of 
crying. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Annie,"  said  Mrs  Forbes,  as  she  drew 
her  nearer,  genuinely  concerned  at  the  child's  tears. 

"  Oh!  mem,  ye  didiia  see  hoo  the  maister  lickit  him,  or  ye 
wad  hae  grutten  yersel'." 

Tears  from  some  mysterious  source  sprang  to  Mrs  Forbes's 
eyes.     But  at  the  moment  Mary  opened  the  door,  and  said — 

"  Here's  Maister  Bruce,  mem,  wantiu'  to  see  ye." 

"  Tell  him  to  walk  up,  Mary." 

"  Oh  !  no,  no,  mem  ;  dinna  lat  him  come  till  I'm  out  o'  this. 
He'll  tak'  me  wi'  him,"  cried  Annie. 

Mar}'  stood  waiting  the  result. 

"  But  you  must  go  home,  you  know,  Annie,"  said  Mrs 
Forbes,  kindly. 

"Ay,  but  no  wi'  ^/w,"  pleaded  Annie. 

From  what  Mrs  Forbes  knew  of  the  manners  and  character 
of  Bruce,  she  was  not  altt»gether  surprised  at  Annie's  reluct- 
ance.    So,  turning  to  the  maid,  she  said — 

"  Have  you  told  Mr  Bruce  that  Miss  Anderson  is  here  ?  " 

"  Me  tell  him  !     Xo,  mem.     What's  Ms  business  ?  " 

"Mary,  you  forget  yourself" 

"  Weel,  mem,  I  canna  bide  him." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Mary,"  said  her  mistress,  hardly  able 
to  restrain  her  own  amusement,  "  and  take  the  child  into  my 
room  till  he  is  gone.  But  perhaps  he  knows  you  are  here, 
Annie  ?  " 

"  He  canna  ken  that,  mem.  He  jumps  at  things  whiles, 
though,  sharp  eneuch." 

"  Well,  well !     We  shall  see." 

So  Mary  led  Annie  away  to  the  sanctuary  of  Mrs  Forbes's 
bed-room. 

But  the  Bruce  was  not  upon  Annie's  track  at  all.  His  visit 
wants  a  few  words  of  explanation. 

Bruce's  father  had  been  a  faithful  servant  to  Mr  Forbes's 
father,  who  held  the  same  farm  before  his  son,  both  having  been 
what  are  called  gentlemen-farmers.  The  younger  Bruce,  being 
anxious  to  set  up  a  shop,  had,  for  his  father's  sake,  been  assisted^ 
with  money  by  the  elder  Forbes.  This  money  he  had  repaid 
before  the  death  of  the  old  man,  who  had  never  asked  any  in- 
terest for  it.  More  than  a  few  years  had  not  passed  before 
Bruce,  who  had  a  wonderful  capacity  for  petty  business,  was 
known  to  have  accumulated  some  savings  in  the  bank.     Now 


56  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

the  younger  Forbes,  being  considerably  more  enterprising  than 
his  father,  had  spent  all  his  capital  upon  improvements — drain- 
ing, fencing,  and  such  like — when  a  younger  brother,  to  whom 
he  was  greatly  attached,  applied  to  him  for  help  in  an  emer- 
gency, and  he  had  nothing  of  his  own  within  his  reach  where- 
with to  aid  him.  In  this  difficulty  he  bethought  him  of  Bruce, 
to  borrow  from  whom  would  not  involve  the  exposure  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  in  any  embarrassment,  however  temporary — an 
exposure  very  undesirable  in  a  country  town  like  Grlamerton. 

After  a  thorough  investigation  of  the  solvency  of  Mr 
Forbes,  and  a  proper  delay  for  consideration  besides,  Bruce 
supplied  him  with  a  hundred  pounds  upon  personal  bond,  at 
the  usual  rate  of  interest,  for  a  certain  term  of  years.  Mr 
Forbes  died  soon  after,  leaving  his  affairs  in  some  embarrassment 
in  consequence  of  his  outlay.  Mrs  Forbes  had  paid  the  interest 
of  the  debt  now  for  two  years  ;  but,  as  the  rent  of  the  farm  was 
heavy,  she  found  this  additional  trifle  a  burden.  She  had  good 
reason,  however,  to  hope  for  better  times,  as  the  farm  must 
sooa  increase  its  yield  Mr  Bruce,  on  his  part,  regarded  the 
widow  with  somewhat  jealous  eyes,  because  he  very  much 
doubted  whether,  when  the  day  arrived,  she  would  be  able  to 
pay  him  the  money  she  owed  him.  That  day  was,  however,  not 
just  at  hand.  It  was  this  diversion  of  his  resources,  and  not 
the  moral  necessity  for  a  nest-egg,  as  he  had  represented  the 
case  to  Margaret  Anderson,  which  had  urged  him  to  show  hos- 
pitality to  Annie  Anderson  and  her  little  fortune. 

So  neither  was  it  anxiety  for  the  welfare  of  Alec  that  in- 
duced him  to  call  on  Mrs  Forbes.  Indeed  if  Malison  had  killed 
him  outright,  he  would  have  been  rather  pleased  than  other- 
wise. But  he  was  in  the  habit  of  reminding  the  widow  of  his 
existence  by  an  occasional  call,  especially  when  the  time  ap- 
proached for  the  half-yearly  payment  of  the  interest.  And  now 
the  report  of  Alec's  condition  gave  him  a  suitable  pretext  for 
looking  in  upon  his  debtor,  without,  as  he  thought,  appearing 
too  greedy  after  his  money. 

"  Weel,  mem,  hoo  are  ye  the  day  ?  "  said  he,  as  he  entered, 
rubbing  his  hands. 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,  Mr  Bruce.     Take  a  seat." 

"  An'  hoo's  Mr  Alec  ?  " 

"  There  he  is  to  answer  for  himself,"  said  Mrs  Forbes,  look- 
ing towards  the  sofa. 

"  Hoo  are  ye,  Mr  Alec,  efter  a'  this  ?  "  said  Bruce,  turning 
towards  him. 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,"  answered  Alec,  in  a  tone  that  did 
not  altogether  please  either  of  the  listeners. 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  57 

"  I  thocht  ye  had  been  raither  sair,  sir,"  returned  Bruce,  in 
an  acid  tone. 

"  I've  got  a  wale  or  two,  that's  all,"  said  xllec. 

"  Weel,  I  houp  it'll  be  a  lesson  to  ye." 

"  To  Mr  Malison,  you  shovild  have  said,  Mr  Bruce.  I  am 
perfectly  satisfied,  for  my  part." 

His  mother  was  surprised  to  hear  him  speak  like  a  grown 
man,  as  well  as  annoyed  at  his  behaviour  to  Bruce,  in  whose 
power  she  feared  they  might  one  day  find  themselves  to  their 
cost.  But  she  said  nothing.  Bruce,  likewise,  was  rather  non- 
plussed.    He  grinned  a  smile  and  was  silent. 

"  I  hear  you  have  taken  James  Anderson's  daughter  into 
your  family  now,  Mr  Bruce." 

"  Ow,  ay,  mem.  There  was  nobody  to  luik  efter  the  bit 
lassie;  sae,  though  I  cud  but  ill  afibord  it,  wi'  my  ain  sma' 
faimily  comin'  up,  I  was  jist  in  a  mainner  obleeged  to  tak'  her, 
Jeames  Anderson  bein'  a  cousin  o'  my  ain,  ye  ken,  mem." 

"  AVell,  I  am  sure  it  was  very  kind  of  you  and  Mrs  Bruce. 
How  does  the  child  get  on  ?  " 

"  Middlin',  mem,  middlin'.  She's  jist  some  ill  for  takin'  up 
wi'  loons." 

Here  he  glanced  at  Alec,  with  an  expression  of  successful 
spite.     He  certainly  had  the  best  of  it  now. 

Alec  was  on  the  point  of  exclaiming  "  That's  a  lie,"  but  he 
had  prudence  enough  to  restrain  himself,  perceiving  that  the 
contradiction  would  have  a  better  chance  with  his  mother  if 
he  delayed  its  utterance  till  after  the  departure  of  Bruce.  So, 
meantime,  the  subject  was  not  pursued.  A  little  desultory 
conversation  followed,  and  the  visitor  departed,  with  a  lau"-h 
from  between  his  teeth  as  he  took  leave  of  Alee,  which  I  can 
only  describe  as  embodying  an  I  told  you  so  sort  of  satisfac- 
tion. 

Almost  as  soon  as  he  was  out  of  the  house  the  parlour- 
door  opened,  and  Mary  brought  in  Annie.  Mrs  Eorbes's  eyes 
were  instantly  fixed  on  her  with  mild  astonishment,  and  some- 
thing of  a  mother's  tenderness  awoke  in  her  heart  towards 
the  little  maid-child.  AVhat  would  she  not  have  given  for 
such  a  daughter !  During  Bruce's  call,  Mary  had  been  busy 
with  the  child.  She  had  combed  and  brushed  her  thick 
brown  hair,  and,  taken  with  its  exceeding  beauty,  had  ven- 
tured on  a  stroke  of  originality  no  one  would  have  expected 
of  her:  she  had  left  it  hanging  loose  on  her  shoulders.  Any 
one  would  think  such  an  impropriety  impossible  to  a  Scotch- 
woman. Bat  then  she  had  been  handling  the  hair,  and  con- 
tact with  anything  alters  so  much  one's  theories  about  it.    If 


58  ALEC  FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

Mary  had  found  it  so,  instead  of  making  it  so,  she  would  have 
said  it  was  "  no  dacent."  But  the  hair  gave  her  its  own 
theory  before  she  had  done  with  it,  and  this  was  the  result. 
She  had  also  washed  her  face  and  hands  and  neck,  made  the 
best  she  could  of  her  poor,  dingy  dress,  and  put  one  of  her 
own  Sunday  collars  upon  her. 

Annie  had  submitted  to  it  all  without  question  ;  and  thus 
adorned,  Mary  introduced  her  again  to  the  dining-room.  Be- 
fore Mrs  Forbes  had  time  to  discover  that  she  was  shocked, 
she  was  captivated  by  the  pale,  patient  face,  and  the  longing 
blue  eyes,  that  looked  at  her  as  if  the  child  felt  that  she  ought 
to  have  been  her  mother,  but  somehow  they  had  missed  each 
other.  They  gazed  out  of  the  shadows  of  the  mass  of  dark 
brown  wavy  hair  that  fell  to  her  waist,  and  there  was  no  more 
any  need  for  Alec  to  contradict  Bruce's  calumny.  But  Mrs 
Forbes  was  speedily  recalled  to  a  sense  of  propriety  by  ob- 
serving that  Alec  too  was  staring  at  Annie  with  a  mingling 
of  amusement,  admiration,  and  respect. 

"  What  have  you  been  about,  Mary  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  tone 
of  attempted  reproof.  "  You  have  made  a  perfect  fright  of 
the  child.     Take  her  away." 

When  Annie  was  once  more  brought  back,  with  her  hair 
restored  to  its  net,  silent  tears  of  mortification  were  still  flow- 
ing down  her  cheeks. — When  Annie  cried,  the  tears  always 
rose  and  flowed  without  any  sound  or  convulsion.  Earely 
did  she  sob  even. — This  completed  the  conquest  of  Mrs 
Forbes's  heart.  She  drew  the  little  one  to  her,  and  kissed 
her,  and  Annie's  tears  instantly  ceased  to  rise,  while  Mrs 
Forbes  wiped  away  those  still  lingering  on  her  face.  Mary 
then  went  to  get  the  tea,  and  Mrs  Forbes  having  left  the  room 
for  a  moment  to  recover  that  self-possession,  the  loss  of  which 
is  peculiarly  objectionable  to  a  Scotchwoman,  Annie  was  left 
seated  on  a  footstool  before  the  bright  fire,  the  shadows  from 
which  were  now  dancing  about  the  darkening  room,  and  Alec 
lay  on  the  sofa  looking  at  her.  There  was  no  great  occasion 
for  his  lying  on  the  sofa,  but  his  mother  desired  it,  and  Alec 
had  at  present  no  particular  objection. 

"  I  wadna  like  to  be  gran'  fowk,"  mused  Annie  aloud,  for 
getting  that  she  was  not  alone. 

"  We're  no  gran'  fowk,  Annie,"  said  Alec. 

"  Ay  are  ye,"  returned  Annie,  persistently. 

"  Weel,  what  for  wadna  ye  like  it  ?  " 

"  Te  maun  be  aye  feared  for  blaudin'  things." 

"  Mamma  wad  tell  ye  a  difierent  story,"  rejoined  Alec 
laughing.     "  There's  naething  here  to  blaud  (spoil)." 


AI.EC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  59 

Mi's  Forbes  returned.  Tea  was  brought  in.  Annie  com- 
ported herself  like  a  lady,  and,  after  tea,  ran  home  with 
mingled  feelino;s  of  pleasure  and  pain.  For,  notwithstanding 
her  assertion  that  she  would  not  like  to  be  "  gran'  fowk,"  the 
kitchen  fire,  small  and  dull,  the  smelling  shop,  and  her  own 
dreary  garret-room,  did  not  seem  more  desirable  from  her 
peep  into  the  warmth  and  comfort  of  the  house  at  Howglen. 

Questioned  as  to  what  had  delayed  her  return  from  school, 
she  told  the  truth  ;  that  she  had  gone  to  ask  after  Alec  Forbes, 
and  that  they  had  kept  her  to  tea. 

"  I  tauld  them  that  ye  ran  efter  the  loons  !  "  said  Bruce 
triumphantly.  Then  stung  with  the  reilection  that  he  had 
not  been  asked  to  stay  to  tea,  he  added :  "  It's  no  for  the 
likes  o'  you,  Annie,  to  gang  to  gentlefowk's  hooses,  makin' 
free  whaur  ye're  no  wantit.  Sae  dinna  lat  me  hear  the  like 
again." 

But  it  was  wonderful  how  Bruce's  influence  over  Annie, 
an  influence  of  distress,  was  growing  gradually  weaker.  He 
could  make  her  uncomfortable  enough  ;  but  as  to  his  opinion 
of  her,  she  had  almost  reached  the  point  of  not  caring  a  straw 
for  that.  And  she  had  faith  enough  in  Alec  to  hope  that  he 
would  defend  her  from  whatever  Bruce  might  have  said 
against  her. 

Whether  Mary  had  been  talking  in  the  town,  as  is  not  im- 
probable, about  little  Annie  Anderson's  visit  to  her  mistress, 
and  so  the  story  of  the  hair  came  to  be  known,  or  not,  I  can- 
not tell ;  but  it  was  a  notable  coincidence  that  a  few  days 
after,  Mrs  Bruce  came  to  the  back-door,  with  a  great  pair  of 
shears  in  her  hand,  and  calling  Annie,  said : 

"  Here,  Annie  !  Yer  hair's  ower  lang.  I  maun  jist  clip 
it.     It's  giein  ye  sair  een." 

"  There's  naething  the  maitter  wi'  my  een,"  said  Annie 
gently. 

"Dinna  answer  back.  Sit  doon,"  returned  Mrs  Bruce, 
leading  her  into  the  kitchen. 

Annie  cared  very  little  for  her  hair,  and  well  enough  re- 
membered that  Mrs  Forbes  had  said  it  made  a  fright  of  her ; 
so  it  was  with  no  great  reluctance  that  she  submitted  to  the 
operation.  Mrs  Bruce  chopped  it  short  off  all  round.  As, 
however,  this  permitted  what  there  was  of  it  to  fall  about  her 
face,  there  being  too  little  to  confine  in  the  usual  prison  of 
the  net,  her  appearance  did  not  bear  such  marks  of  deprivation, 
or,  in  other  and  Scotch  words,  "  she  didna  luik  sae  dockit,"  as 
might  have  been  expected. 

Her  wavy  locks  of  rich  brown  were  borne  that  night,  by 


60  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

tlie  careful  haud  of  Mrs  Bruce,  to  Eob  Guddle,  the  barber. 
Nor  was  the  hand  less  careful  that  brought  back  their  equiva- 
lent in  money.  With  a  smile  to  her  husband,  half  loving  and 
half  cunning,  Mrs  Bruce  dropped  the  amount  into  the  till. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 


Although  Alec  Forbes  was  not  a  boy  of  quick  receptivity 
as  far  as  books  were  concerned,  and  therefore  was  no  favourite 
with  Mr  Malison,  he  was  not  by  any  means  a  common  or  a 
stupid  boy.  His  own  eyes  could  teach  him  more  than  books 
could,  for  he  had  a  very  quick  observation  of  things  about  liim, 
both  in  what  is  commonly  called  nature  and  in  humanity. 
He  knew  all  the  birds,  all  their  habits,  and  all  their  eggs. 
Not  a  boy  in  Grlamerton  could  find  a  nest  quicker  than  he,  or 
when  found  treated  it  with  such  respect.  For  he  never  took 
voung  birds,  and  seldom  more  than  half  of  the  eggs.  Indeed 
he  w^as  rather  an  uncommon  boy,  having,  along  with  more  than 
the  usual  amount  of  activity  even  for  a  boy,  a  tenderness  of 
heart  altogether  rare  in  boys.  He  was  as  familiar  with  the 
domestic  animals  and  their  ways  of  feeling  and  acting  as 
Annie  herself.  Anything  like  cruelty  he  detested  ;  and  yet, 
as  occasion  will  show,  he  could  execute  stern  justice.  With 
the  world  of  men  around  him,  he  was  equally  conversant.  He 
knew  the  characters  of  the  simple  people  wonderfully  well ; 
and  took  to  Thomas  Crann  more  than  to  any  one  else,  not- 
withstanding that  Thomas  would  read  him  a  long  lecture 
sometimes.  To  these  lectures  Alec  would  listen  seriously 
enough,  believing  Thomas  to  be  right ;  though  he  could  never 
make  up  his  mind  to  give  any  after  attention  to  what  he  re- 
quired of  him. 

The  first  time  Alec  met  Thomas  after  the  affair  with  the 
dominie,  was  on  the  day  before  he  was  to  go  back  to  school ; 
for  his  mother  had  yielded  at  last  to  his  entreaties.  Thomas 
was  building  an  addition  to  a  water-mill  on  the  banks  of  the 
Glamour  not  far  from  where  Alec  lived,  and  Alec  had  strolled 
along  thither  to  see  how  the  structure  was  going  on.  He  ex- 
pected a  sharp  rebuke  for  his  behaviour  to  Mr  Malison,  but 
somehow  he  was  not  afraid  of  Thomas,  and  was  resolved  to 
face  it  out.  The  first  words  Thomas  uttered,  however,  were : 
"  Weel,  Alec,  can  ye  tell  me  what  was  the  name  o'  King 
Dawvid's  mither  ?  "  , 


AT.EC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEX.  61 

"  I  cannot,  Thomas,"  answered  Alec.     "  What  was  it  ?  " 

"Tin'  ye  that  oot.  Turn  ower  yer  Bible.  Hae  ye  been 
back  to  the  school  yet  ?  " 

"  Is  0.     I'm  gaein  the  morn." 

"  Te're  no  gaein  to  strive  wi'  the  maister  afore  nicht,  are 
ye?" 

"  I  dinna  ken,"  answered  Alec.  "  Maybe  he'll  strive  wi' 
me. — But  ve  ken,  Thomas,"  he  continued,  defending  himself 
from  what  he  supposed  Thomas  was  thinking,  "  King  Dawvid 
himsel'  killed  the  giant." 

"  Ow  !  ay  ;  a'  richt.  I'm  no  referrin'  to  that.  Maybe  ye 
did  verra  richt.  But  tak  care.  Alec — "  here  Thomas  paused 
from  his  work,  and  turning  towards  the  boy  with  a  trowelful 
of  mortar  in  his  hand,  spoke  ver}'  slowly  and  solemnly — "  tak 
ye  care  that  ye  beir  no  malice  against  the  maister.  Justice 
itsel,"  dune  for  the  sake  o'  a  private  grudge,  will  bunce  back 
upo'  the  doer.  I  hae  little  doobt  the  maister'll  be  the  better 
for't ;  but  gin  ye  be  the  waur,  it'll  be  an  ill  job,  Alec,  my 
man." 

"I  hae  no  ill-will  at  him,  Thomas." 

"  Weel,  jist  watch  yer  ain  hert,  and  bewaur  ye  o'  that.  I 
wad  coonsel  ye  to  try  and  please  him  a  grainie  mair  nor 
ordinar'.  It's  no  that  easy  to  the  carnal  man,  but  ye  ken  we 
ought  to  crucify  the  auld  man,  wi'  his  affections  and  lusts." 

"  Weel,  I'll  try,"  said  Alec,  to  whom  it  was  not  nearly  so 
difficult  as  Thomas  imagined.  His  man  apparently  was  not 
very  old  yet. 

And  he  did  try;  and  the  master  seemed  to  appreciate  his 
endeavours,  and  to  accept  them  as  a  peace-ofFering,  thus  show- 
ing that  he  really  was  the  better  for  the  punishment  he  had 
received. 

It  would  be  great  injustice  to  Mr  Malison  to  judge  him  by 
the  feeling  of  the  present  day.  It  was  the  custom  of  the  time 
and  of  the  country  to  use  the  tawse  unsparingly ;  for  law 
having  been,  and  still,  in  a  great  measure,  being,  the  highest 
idea  generated  of  the  divine  by  the  ordinary  Scotch  mind,  it 
must  be  supported,  at  all  risks  even,  by  means  of  the  leather 
strap.  In  the  hands  of  a  wise  and  even-tempered  man,  no 
harm  could  result  from  the  use  of  this  instrument  of  justice ; 
but  in  the  hands  of  a  fierce-tempered  and  therefore  changeable 
man,  of  small  moral  stature,  and  liable  to  prejudices  and  of- 
fence, it  became  the  means  of  unspeakable  injury  to  those 
under  his  care ;  not  the  least  of  which  was  the  production,  in 
delicate  natures,  of  doubt  and  hesitancy,  sometimes  deepening 
into  cowardice  and  lying. 


62  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

Mr  Malison  had  nothing  of  the  childlike  in  himself,  and 
consequently  never  saw  the  mind  of  the  child  whose  person 
he  was  assailing  with  a  battery  of  excruciating  blows.  A  man 
ought  to  be  able  to  endure  grief  suffering  wrongfully,  and  be 
none  the  worse ;  but  who  dares  demand  that  of  a  child  ? 
Well  it  is  for  such  masters  that  even  they  are  judged  by  the 
heart  of  a  father,  and  not  by  the  law  of  a  king,  that  worst  of 
all  the  fictions  of  an  ignorant  and  low  theology.  And  if  they 
must  receive  punishment,  at  least  it  will  not  be  the  heartless 
punishment  which  they  inflicted  on  the  boys  and  girls  under 
their  law. 

Annie  began  to  be  regarded  as  a  protegee  of  Alec  Porbes, 
and  as  Alec  was  a  favourite  with  most  of  his  schoolfellows, 
and  was  feared  where  he  was  not  loved,  even  her  cousins  began 
to  look  upon  her  with  something  like  respect,  and  mitigate 
their  persecutions.  But  she  did  not  therefore  become  much 
more  reconciled  to  her  position ;  for  the  habits  and  custcms 
of  her  home  were  distasteful  to  her,  and  its  whole  atmosphere 
uncongenial.  Nor  could  it  have  been  otherwise  in  any  house 
where  the  entire  anxiety  was,  first,  to  make  money,  and  next, 
not  to  spend  it.  The  heads  did  not  in  the  least  know  that 
they  were  unkind  to  her.  On  the  contrary,  Bruce  thought 
himself  a  pattern  of  generosity  if  he  gave  her  a  scrap  of 
string ;  and  Mrs  Bruce,  when  she  said  to  inquiring  gossips 
"  The  bairn's  like  ither  bairns — she's  weel  eueuch,"  thought 
herself  a  pattern  of  justice  or  even  of  foj'bearance.  But  both 
were  jealous  of  her,  in  relation  to  their  own  children  ;  and 
when  Mrs  Forbes  sent  for  her  one  Saturday,  soon  after  her 
first  visit,  they  hardly  concealed  their  annoyance  at  the  pre- 
ference shown  her  by  one  who  was  under  such  great  obligation 
to  the  parents  of  other  children  every  way  superior  to  her 
whose  very  presence  somehow  or  other  made  them  uncomfort- 
able. 


CHAPTEE  XVI. 


The  winter  drew  on — a  season  as  different  from  the  sum- 
mer in  those  northern  latitudes,  as  if  it  belonged  to  another 
solar  system.  Cold  and  storniy,  it  is  yet  full  of  delight  for 
all  beings  that  can  either  romp,  sleep,  or  think  it  through. 
But  alas  for  the  old  and  sickly,  in  poor  homes,  with  scanty 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 


63 


food  and  firing !  Little  cliildren  suffer  too,  thougli  the  gift  of 
forgetfulness  does  for  them  what  the  gift  of  faith  does  for 
their  parents — helps  them  over  many  troubles,  besides  tingling 
fingers  and  stony  feet.  There  would  be  many  tracks  of  those 
small  feet  in  the  morning  snow,  leading  away  across  the  fresh- 
fallen  clouds  from  the  house  and  cottage  doors  ;  for  the  bar- 
barity 0^  morning-school,  that  is,  an  hour  and  a  half  of  dreary 
lessons  before  breakfast,  was  in  full  operation  at  Glameiton. 

The  winter  came.  One  morning,  all  the  children  awoke, 
and  saw  a  white  world  around  them.  Alec  jumped  out  of 
bed  in  delight.  It  was  a  sunny,  frosty  morning.  The  snow 
had  fallen  all  night,  with  its  own  silence,  and  no  wind  had  in- 
terfered with  the  gracious  alighting  of  the  feathery  water. 
Every  branch,  every  twig,  was  laden  with  its  sparkling  burden 
of  down-flickered  flakes,  and  threw  long  lovely  shadows  on 
the  smooth  featureless  dazzle  below.  Away,  away,  stretched 
the  outspread  glory,  the  only  darkness  in  it  being  the  line  of 
the  winding  river.  All  the  snow  that  fell  on  it  vanished,  as 
death  and  hell  shall  one  day  vanish  in  the  fire  of  God.  It 
flowed  on,  black  through  its  banks  of  white.  Away  again 
stretched  the  shine  to  the  town,  where  every  roof  had  the 
sheet  that  was  let  down  from  heaven  spread  over  it,  and  the 
streets  lay  a  foot  deep  in  j*et  unsullied  snow,  soon,  like  the 
story  of  the  ages,  to  be  trampled,  soiled,  wrought,  and  driven 
with  human  feet,  till,  at  last,  God's  strong  sun  would  wipe  it 
all  away. 

From  the  door  opening  into  this  fairy-land,  Alec  sprang 
into  the  untrodden  space,  as  into  a  new  America.  He  had  dis- 
covered a  world,  without  even  the  print  of  human  foot  upon  it. 
The  keen  air  made  him  happy;  and  the  face  of  nature,  looking 
as  peaceful  as  the  face  of  a  dead  man  dreaming  of  heaven, 
wrought  in  him  jubilation  and  leaping.  He  was  at  the  school 
door  before  a  human  being  had  appeared  in  the  streets  of 
Glamerton.  Its  dwellers  all  lay  still  under  those  sheets  of 
snow,  which  seemed  to  hold  them  asleep  in  its  cold  enchant- 
ment. 

Before  any  of  his  fellows  made  their  appearance,  he  had 
kneaded  and  piled  a  great  heap  of  snowballs,  and  stood  by  his 
pyramid,  prepared  for  the  oflensive.  He  attacked  the  first  that 
came,  and  soon  there  was  a  troop  of  boys  pelting  awaj^  at  him. 
But  with  his  store  of  balls  at  his  foot,  he  was  able  to  pay  pretty 
fairly  for  what  he  received  ;  till,  that  being  exhausted,  he  was 
forced  to  yield  the  unequal  combat.  By-and-by  the  little  ones 
gathered,  with  Annie  amongst  them ;  but  they  kept  aloof,  for 
fear  of  the  flying  balls,  for  the  boys  had  divided  into  two  equal 

( 


64  ALEC    rOKBES    OF    HOWULEN. 

parties,  and  were  pelting  away  at  each  other.  At  length  the 
woman  who  had  c4iarge  of  the  school-room,  having  finished 
lighting  the  fire,  opened  the  door,  and  Annie,  who  was  vei'y 
cold,  made  a  run  for  it,  during  a  'lull  in  the  fury  of  the  battle. 

"  Stop,"  cried  Alec ;  and  the  balling  ceased,  that  Annie, 
followed  by  a  few  others,  might  pass  in  safety  through  the 
midst  of  the  combatants.  One  boy,  however,  just  as  Annie 
was  entering,  threw  a  ball  after  her.  He  missed  her,  but  Alec 
did  not  miss  him ;  for  scarcely  was  the  ball  out  of  his  hand 
when  he  received  another,  right  between  his  eyes.  Over  he 
went,  amidst  a  shout  of  satisfaction. 

When  the  master  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  lane  the  fight 
came  to  a  close  ;  and  as  he  entered  the  school,  the  group  round 
the  fire  broke  up  and  dispersed.  Alec,  having  entered  close 
behind  the  master,  overtook  Annie  as  she  went  to  her  seat,  for 
he  had  observed,  as  she  ran  into  the  school,  that  she  was  lame 
— indeed  limping  considerably. 

"  What's  the  maitter  wi'  ye,  Annie  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  gars 
ye  hirple  ?  " 

"  Juno  bitet  me,"  answered  Annie. 

"  Ay  !  Verra  weel ! "  returned  Alec,  in  a  tone  that  had  more 
meaning  than  the  words. 

Soon  after  the  Bible-class  was  over,  and  they  had  all  taken 
their  seats,  a  strange  quiet  stir  and  excitement  gradually  arose, 
like  the  first  motions  of  a  whirlpool  at  the  turn  of  the  tide. 
The  master  became  aware  of  more  than  the  usual  flitting  to  and 
fro  amongst  the  boys,  just  like  the  coming  and  going  which 
preludes  the  swarming  of  bees.  But  as  he  had  little  or  no  con- 
structive power,  he  never  saw  beyond  the  symptoms.  They  were 
to  him  mere  isolated  facts,  signifying  present  disorder. 

"  John  Morisou,  go  to  your  seat,"  he  cried. 

John  went. 

"  Robert  Rennie,  go  to  your  seat." 

Robert  went.  And  this  continued  till,  six  having  been  thus 
passed  by,  and  a  seventh  appearing  three  forms  from  his  own, 
the  master,  who  seldom  stood  it  so  long,  could  stand  it  no 
longer.  The  taq  was  thrown,  and  a  liclcing  followed,  making 
matters  a  little  better  from  tlie  master's  ])oiiit  of  view. 

Now  I  will  try  to  give,  from  the  scholars'  side,  a  peep  of 
what  passed. 

As  soon  as  he  was  fairly  seated,  Alec  said  in  a  low  voice 
across  tlie  double  desk  to  one  of  the  boys  opposite,  calling  him 
by  his  nickname, 

"  1  say,  Divot,  do  ye  ken  Juno  ?  " 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  65 

"  Maybe  no  !"  answered  Divot.  "  But  gin  I  dinna,  my  left 
leg  dis." 

"  I  thocht  ye  kent  the  shape  o'  her  teeth,  man.  Jist  gie 
Scrumpie  there  a  dig  i'  the  ribs." 

"  What  are  ye  efter,  Divot  ?  I'll  gie  ye  a  cloot  o'  the  lug," 
grovrled  Scrumpie. 

"Hoot  man!    The  General  wants  ye." 

The  General  was  Alec's  nickname. 

"  Whatis't,  General?" 

"  Do  ye  ken  Juno  ?  " 

"  Hang  the  bitch  !  I  ken  her  ower  week  She  took  her 
denner  aff  o'  ane  o'  my  hips,  ae  day  last  year." 

"  Jist  creep  ower  to  Cadger  there,  and  speir  gin  he  kens 
Juno.     Maybe  he's  forgotten  her." 

Cadger's  reply  was  interrupted  by  the  interference  of  the 
master,  but  a  pantomimic  gesture  conveyed  to  the  General  suf- 
ficient assurance  of  the  retentiveness  of  Cadger's  memory  in 
regard  to  Juno  and  her  favours.  Such  messages  and  replies, 
notwithstanding  more  than  one  licking,  kept  passing  the  whole 
of  the  morning. 

Now  Juno  was  an  animal  of  the  dog  kind,  belonging  to 
Eobert  Bruce.  She  had  the  nose  and  the  legs  of  a  bull-dog,  but 
was  not  by  any  means  thorough-bred,  and  her  behaviour  was 
worse  than  her  breed.  She  was  a  great  favourite  with  her  mas- 
ter, w^ho  ostensibly  kept  her  chained  in  his  back-yard  for  the 
protection  of  his  house  and  property.  But  she  was  not  by  any 
means  popular  with  the  rising  generation.  For  she  was  given 
to  biting,  with  or  without  provocation,  and  every  now  and  then 
she  got  loose — upon  sundry  of  which  occasions  she  had  bitten 
boys.  Complaint  had  been  made  to  her  owner,  but  without 
avail ;  for  he  only  professed  great  concern,  and  promised  she 
should  not  get  loose  again,  which  promise  had  been  repeat- 
edly broken.  Various  vows  of  vengeance  had  been  made, 
and  forgotten.  But  now  Alec  Forbes  had  taken  up  the  cause 
of  humanity  and  justice  :  for  the  brute  had  bitten  Annie,  and 
she  could  have  given  no  provocation. 

It  was  soon  understood  throughout  the  school  that  war  was 
to  be  made  upon  Juno,  and  that  every  able-bodied  boy  must  be 
ready  when  called  out  by  the  General.  The  minute  they  were 
dismissed,  which,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  took  place  at  three 
o'clock,  no  interval  being  given  for  dinner,  because  there  was 
hardly  any  afternoon,  the  boys  gathered  in  a  knot  at  the  door. 

"  What  are  ye  gaein'  to  do,  General?"  asked  one. 

"  Kill  her,"  answered  Alec. 


66  ALEC  FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

"What  way?" 

"  Stane  her  to  death, loons, like  the  man  'at  brakthe  Sabbath." 

"  Broken  banes  for  broken  skins — eh  ?  Ay  !  " 

"  The  damned  ill-faured  brute,  to  bite  Annie  Anderson  !  " 

"  But  there's  nae  staues  to  be  gotten  i'  the  snaw,  General," 
said  Cadger. 

"  Te  gomeril !  Te'll  get  mair  stanes  nor  ye'll  carry,  I  doobt, 
up  o'  the  side  o'  the  toll-road  yonner.  Naething  like  road- 
metal  ! " 

A  confused  chorus  of  suggestions  and  exclamations  now 
arose,  in  the  midst  of  which  Willie  Macwha,  whose  cognomen 
was  Curly-pow,  came  up.  He  was  not  often  the  last  in  a  con- 
spiracy.    His  arrival  had  for  the  moment  a  sedative  effect. 

"  Here's  Curly  !     Here's  Curly  !  " 

"  Weel,  is't  a'  sattled  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  She's  condemned,  but  no  execute  yet,"  said  Grumpie. 

"  Hoo  are  we  to  win  at  her  ?"  asked  Cadger. 

"That's  jist  the  pint,"  said  Divot. 

"  We  canna  weel  kill  her  in  her  ain  yard,"  suggested 
Houghie. 

"  Na.  We  maun  bide  our  time,  an'  tak  her  when  she's  oot 
aboot,"  said  the  General. 

"  But  wha's  to  ken  that  ?  an'  hoo  are  we  to  gather  ?"  asked 
Cadger,  who  seemed  both  of  a  practical  and  a  despondent  turn 
of  mind. 

"  Noo,  jist  hand  yer  tongues,  an'  hearken  to  me,"  said  Alec. 

The  excited  assembly  was  instantly  silent. 

"  The  first  thing,"  began  Alec,  "  is  to  store  plenty  o'  ammu- 
nition." 

"  Ay,  ay.  General." 

"  Haud  yer  tongues. — Whaur  had  we  best  stow  the  stanes. 
Curly?" 

"In  oor  yard.     They'll  never  be  noticed  there." 

"  That'll  do.  Some  time  the  nicht,  ye'll  a'  carry  what  stanes 
ye  can  get — an'  min'  they're  o'  a  serviceable  natur' — to  Curly's 
yard.  He'll  be  o'  the  ootluik  for  ye.  An,'  I  say,  Curly,  doesna 
your  riggin-stane  owerluik  the  maist  o'  the  toon  ?  " 

"Ay,  General." 

"  Te  can  see  our  hoose  frae't — canna  ye  ?" 

"  Ay." 

"  Weel,  ye  jist  buy  a  twa  three  blue  lichts.  Hae  ye  ouy 
bawbees  ?" 

"Deil  ane.  General." 

"  Hae  than,  there's  fewer  an'  a  bawbee  for  expenses  o'  tliS 
war." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  67 

"  Ttank  ye,  General." 

"  Te  hae  an  auld  gun,  haena'  ye  ?" 

"  Ay  have  I ;  but  she's  nearhan'  the  rivin'." 

"  Load  her  to  the  mou',  and  lat  her  rive.  We'll  may  be  hear't. 
But  hand  weel  oot  ower  frae  her.     Te  can  lay  a  train,  ye  ken." 

"  I  a'  tak  care  o'  that.  General." 

"  Scrumpie,  ye  bide  no  that  far  frae  the  draigon's  den.  Te 
jist  keep  yer  ee — nae  the  crookit  ane — upo'  her  ootgoins  an' 
incomins  ;  or  raither,  ye  luik  efter  her  comin  oot,  an'  we'll  a' 
luik  efter  her  gaein  in  again.  Jist  mak  a  regiment  o'  yer  ain 
to  watch  her,  and  bring  ye  word  o'  her  proceedins.  Te  can 
easy  luik  roun  the  neuk  o'  the  back-yett,  an'  nobody  be  a  hair 
the  wiser.  As  sune  as  ever  ye  spy  her  lowse  i'  the  yard  be  aif 
wi'  ye  to  Willie  Macwha.  Syne,  Curly,  ye  fire  yer  gun,  and 
burn  the  blue  lichts  o'  the  tap  o'  the  hoose  ;  and  gin  I  see  or 
hear  the  signal,  I'll  be  ower  in  seven  minutes  an'  a  half.  Ilka 
ane  o'  ye  'at  hears,  maun  luik  efter  the  neist ;  and  sae  we'll  a' 
gether  at  Curly's.  Tess  yer  bags  for  the  stanes,  them  'at  has 
bags." 

"  But  gin  ye  dinna  see  or  hear,  for  it's  a  lang  road.  Gener- 
al?" interposed  Cadger. 

"  Gin  I'm  no  at  your  yard,  Curly,  in  saiven  minutes  an'  a 
half,  sen'  Linkum  efter  me.  He's  the  only  ane  o'  ye  'at  can 
riu.  It's  a'  that  he  can  do,  but  he  does't  weel. — Whan  Juno's 
ance  oot,  she's  no  in  a  hurry  in  again." 

The  boys  separated  and  went  home  in  a  state  of  excitement, 
which  probably,  however,  interfered  very  little  with  their  appe- 
tites, seeing  it  was  moderated  in  the  mean  time  by  the  need  and 
anticipation  of  their  dinners. 

The  sun  set  now  between  two  and  three  o'clock,  and  there 
were  long  forenights  to  favour  the  plot.  Perhaps  their  hatred 
of  the  dog  would  not  have  driven  them  to  such  extreme 
measures,  even  although  she  had  bitten  Annie  Anderson,  had 
her  master  been  a  favourite,  or  even  generally  respected.  But 
Alec  knew  well  enough  that  the  townsfolk  were  not  likely  to 
sympathize  with  Bruce  on  the  ill-treatment  of  his  cur. 

When  the  dinner  and  the  blazing  fire  had  filled  him  so  full 
of  comfort  ^hat  he  was  once  more  ready  to  encounter  the  cold, 
Alec  could  stay  in  the  house  no  longer. 

"Where  are  you  going.  Alec?"  said  his  mother. 

"  Into  the  garden,  mamma." 

"  What  can  you  want  in  the  garden — full  of  snow  ?  " 
^^"Tt's  just  the  snow  I  want,  mamma.     It  won't  keep." 

And,  in  another  moment,  he  was  under  the  clear  blue  nio-ht- 
heaven,  with  the  keen  frosty  air  blowing  on  his  warm  cheek 


68  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

busy  witli  a  wheelbarrow  and  a  spade,  slicing  and  shovelling  in 
the  snow.  He  was  building  a  but  of  it,  after  the  fashion  of  the 
Esquimaux  hut,  with  a  very  thick  circular  wall,  which  began  to 
lean  towards  its  own  centre  as  soon  as  it  began  to  rise.  This 
hut  he  had  pitched  at  the  foot  of  a  flag-staff  on  the  green — 
lawn  would  be  too  grand  a  word  for  the  hundred  square  feet  in 
front  of  his  mother's  house,  though  the  grass  which  lay  beneath 
the  snowy  carpet  was  very  green  and  lovely  grass,  smooth  enough 
for  any  lawn.  In  summer  Alec  had  quite  revelled  in  its  green- 
ness and  softness,  as  he  lay  on  it  reading  the  Arabian  Nights 
and  the  Ettrick  Shepherd's  stories  :  now  it  was  "  white  with  the 
whiteness  of  what  is  dead ; "  for  is  not  the  snow  just  dead 
water  ?  The  flag-staff  he  had  got  George  Macwlia  to  erect  for 
him,  at  a  very  small  outlay  ;  and  he  had  himself  fitted  it  with 
shrouds  and  a  cross-yard,  and  signal  halliards  ;  for  he  had 
always  a  fancy  for  the  sea,  and  boats,  and  rigging  of  all  sorts. 
And  he  had  a  great  red  flag,  too,  which  he  used  to  hoist  on 
special  occasions — on  market-days  and  such  like ;  and  often 
besides  when  a  good  wind  blew.  And  very  grand  it  looked,  as 
it  floated  in  the  tide  of  the  wind. 

Often  he  paused  in  his  work,  and  turned — and  oftener  with- 
out raising  himself  he  glanced  towards  the  town  ;  but  no  signal 
burned  from  the  ridge  of  Curly's  house,  and  he  went  on  with 
his  xabour.  "When  called  in  to  tea,  he  gave  a  long  wistful  look 
townwards,  but  saw  no  sign.  Out  again  he  went,  but  no  blue 
fire  rejoiced  him  that  night  with  the  news  that  Juno  was  rang- 
ing the  streets  ;  and  he  was  forced  to  go  to  bed  at  last,  and  take 
refuge  from  his  disappointment  in  sleep. 

The  next  day  he  strictly  questioned  all  his  officers  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  they  had  fulfilled  their  duty,  and  found  no 
just  cause  of  complaint. 

"  In  future,"  he  said  to  Curly,  with  the  importance  of  one 
who  had  the  aflfairs  of  boys  and  dogs  upon  his  brain — so  that 
his  style  rose  into  English — "  in  future.  Curly,  you  may  always 
know  I  am  at  home  when  you  see  the  red  flag  flying  from  my 
flag-staflf." 

"  That's  o'  sma'  service,  General,  i'  the  lang  forenichts.  A 
body  canna  see  freely  so  far." 

"  But  Linkum  wad  see't  fleein',  lang  or  he  wan  to  the  3'ett 
((jate)r 

"  It  wad  flee  nae  mair  nor  a  deid  deuke  i'  this  weather.  It 
wad  be  frozen  as  stiff's  a  buird." 

"  Te  gowk  !  Do  ye  think  fowk  wash  their  flags  afore  they 
hing  them  oot,  like  sarks  or  feheets  ?  Diuna  ye  be  ower  clever, 
Curly,  my  man." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  69 

Wtereupon  Curly  shut  up. 

#  *  *  *  *  * 

"  What  are  you  in  such  a  state  about,  Alec  ?  "    asked  his 
mother. 

"  jSTothing  very  particular,  mamma,"  answered  Alec,  ashamed 
of  his  want  of  self-command. 

"  You've  looked  out  at  the  window  twenty  times  in  the  last 
half-hour,"  she  persisted. 

"  Curly  promised  to  burn  a  blue  light,  and  I  wanted  to  see 
if  I  could  see  it." 

Suspecting  more,  his  mother  was  forced  to  be  content  with 
this  answer. 

But  that  night  was  also  passed  without  sight  or  sound. 
Juno  kept  safe  in  her  barrel,  little  thinking  of  the  machinations 
against  her  in  the  wide  snow-covered  country  around.  Alec 
finished  the  Esquimaux  hut,  and  the  snow  falling  all  night,  the 
hut  looked  the  next  morning  as  if  it  had  been  there  all  the  win- 
ter. As  it  seemed  likely  that  a  long  spell  of  white  weather  had 
set  in,  Alec  resolved  to  exteud  his  original  plan,  and  carry  a 
long  snow  passage,  or  covered  vault,  from  the  lattice-window  of 
a  small  closet,  almost  on  a  level  with  the  ground,  to  this  retreat 
by  the  flag-staff.  He  was  hard  at  work  in  the  execution  of  this 
project,  on  the  tliird  night,  or  rather  late  afternoon  :  they  called 
it  Jbreniqht  there. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


"What  can  that  be,  mem,  awa  ower  the  toon  there?" 
said  Mary  to  her  mistress,  as  in  passing  she  peeped  out  of  the 
window,  the  blind  of  which  Alec  had  drawu  up  behind  the 
curtain. 

"  What  is  it,  Mary  ?  " 

"  That's  jist  what  I  dinna  ken,  mem.  It  canna  be  the  rory- 
bories,  as  Alec  ca's  them.  It's  ower  blue. — It's  oot. — It's  in 
agin. — It's  no  canny. — And,  preserves  a'  !  it's  crackin'  as 
weel,"  cried  Mary,  as  the  subdued  sound  of  a  far-off  explosion 
reached  her. 

This  was  of  course  no  other  than  the  roar  of  Curly's  gun  in 
the  act  of  bursting  and  vanishing  ;  for  neither  stock,  lock,  nor 
barrel  was  ever  seen  again.     It  left  the  world  like  a  Norse 


70  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

king  on  his  fire-ship.     But,  at  the  moment,  Alec  was  too  busy- 
in  the  depths  of  his  snow-vault  to  hear  or  see  the  signals. 

By-and-by  a  knock  came  to  the  kitchen  door.  Mary  went 
and  opened  it. 

"  Alec's  at  hame,  I  ken,"  said  a  rosy  boy,  almost  breathless 
with  past  speed  and  present  excitement. 

"  Hoo  ken  ye  that,  my  man  ?  "  asked  Mary. 
"  'Cause  the  flag's  fleein'.     Whaur  is  he  ?  " 
"  Gin  ye  ken  sae  muckle  aboot  him  already,  ye  can  jist  fin' 
him  to  yersel'  !  " 

"  The  bick's  oot !  "  panted  Linkum. 
But  Mary  shut  the  door. 

"Here's  a  job!"  said  Linkum  to  himself.  "I  canna  gang 
throu  a  steekit  door.  And  there's  Juno  wi'  the  rin  o'  the  haill 
toun.     Deil  tak  her  !  " 

But  at  the  moment  he  heard  Alec  whistling  a  favourite 
tune,  as  he  shovelled  away  at  the  snow. 
"  General !  "  cried  Linkum,  in  ecstasy. 
"  Here !  "    answered  Alec,  flinging  his  spade  twenty  feet 
from  him,  and  bolting  in  the  direction  of  the  call.     "  Is't  you, 
Linkum?  " 

"  She's  oot.  General." 

"  Deil  hae  her,  gin  ever  she  wins  in  again,  the  curst  wor- 
ryin'  brute  !     Did  ye  gang  to  Curly  ?  " 

"  Ay  did  I.  He  fired  the  gun,  and  brunt  three  blue  lichts, 
and  waited  seven  minutes  and  a  half ;  and  syne  he  sent  me  for 
ye,  General." 

"  Con^oon'  't,"  cried  Alec,  and  tore  through  shrubbery  and 
hedge,  the  nearest  way  to  the  road,  followed  by  Linkum,  who 
even  at  full  speed  was  not  a  match  for  Alec.  Away  they  flew 
like  the  wind,  along  the  well-beaten  path  to  the  town,  over  the 
footbridge  that  crossed  the  Glamour,  and  full  speed  up  the  hill 
to  Willie  Macwha,  who,  with  a  dozen  or  fifteen  more,  was 
anxiously  waiting  for  the  commander.  They  all  had  tlieir 
book-bags,  pockets,  and  arms  filled  with  stones  lately  broken 
for  mending  the  turnpike  road,  mostly  granite,  but  partly 
whinstone  and  flint.     One  bag  was  ready  filled  for  Alec. 

"  Noo,"  said  the  General,  in  the  tone  of  Gideon  of  old,  "  gin 
ony  o'  ye  be  fleyt  at  the  brute,  jist  gang  hame." 
"  Ay !  ay  !  General." 

But  nobody  stirred,  for  tliose  who  were  afraid  had  slunk 
away  the  moment  they  saw  Alec  coming  up  the  hill,  like  the 
avenger  of  blood. 

"  Wha's  watchin'  her  ?  " 
"  Doddles,  Gapy,  and  Goat." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  71 

"  Wliaur  was  slie  last  seen  ?  " 

"  Takin'  up  wi'  anither  tyke  on  the  squaure." 

"  Doddles  '11  be  at  the  pump,  to  tell  whaur's  the  ither  twa 
and  the  tyke." 

"  Come  along,  then.  This  is  hoo  ye're  to  gang.  We 
maunna  a'  gang  thegither.  Some  o'  ye — you  three — doon  the 
Back  Wynd  ;  you  sax,  up  Lucky  Hunter's  Close  ;  and  the  lave 
by  Gowan  Street;  an'  first  at  the  pump  bides  for  the  lave." 

"  Hoo  are  we  to  mak  the  attack,  General  ?  " 

"  I'll  gie  my  orders  as  the  case  may  demand,"  said  Alec. 

And  away  they  shot. 

The  muffled  sounds  of  the  feet  of  the  various  companies  as 
they  thundered  past  upon  the  snow,  roused  the  old  wives 
dozing  over  their  knitting  by  their  fires  of  spent  oak-bark  ;  and 
according  to  her  temper  would  be  the  remark  with  which  each 
startled  dame  turned  again  to  her  former  busy  quiescence  : — 
"  Some  mischeef  o'  the  loons  !  "  "  Some  ploy  o'  the  laddies  !  " 
"  Some  deevilry  o'  thae  rascals  frae  Malison's  school !  " 

They  reached  the  square  almost  together,  and  found  Dod- 
dles at  the  pump ;  who  reported  that  Juno  had  gone  down  the 
inn-yard,  and  Gapey  and  Goat  were  watching  her.  Now  she 
must  come  out  to  get  home  again,  for  there  was  no  back-way  ;  so 
by  Alec's  orders  they  dispersed  a  little  to  avoid  observation, 
and  drew  gradually  between  the  entrance  of  the  inn-yard,  and 
the  way  Juno  would  take  to  go  home. 

The  town  was  ordinarily  lighted  at  night  with  oil  lamps, 
but  moonlight  and  snow  had  rendered  them  for  some  time  vm- 
necessary. 

"  Here  she  is!  Here  she  is  !  "  cried  several  at  once  in  a 
hissing  whisper  of  excitement.     "  Lat  at  her !  " 

"  Hand  still !  "  cried  Alec.  "  Bide  till  I  tell  ye.  Dinna 
ye  see  there's  Lang  Tam's  dog  wi'  her,  an'  he's  done  naething. 
Te  maunna  punish  the  innocent  wi'  the  guilty." 

A  moment  after  the  dogs  took  their  leave  of  each  other, 
and  Juno  went,  at  a  slow  slouching  trot,  in  the  direction  of 
her  own  sti'eet. 

"  Close  in  !  "  cried  Alec. 

Juno  found  her  way  barred  in  a  threatening  manner,  and 
sought  to  pass  meekly  by. 

"  Lat  at  her,  boys  !  "  cried  the  General. 

A  storm  of  stones  was  their  answer  to  the  order ;  and  a 
howl  of  rage  and  pain  burst  from  the  animal.  She  turned ; 
but  found  that  she  was  the  centre  of  a  circle  of  enemies. 

"  Lat  at  her  !     Haud  at  her  !  "  bawled  Alec. 

And  thick  as  hail  the  well-aimed  stones  flew  from  practised 


72  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

hands  ;  though  of  course  in  the  frantic  rushes  of  the  dog  to 
escape,  not  half  of  them  took  effect.  She  darted  first  at  one 
and  then  at  another,  snapping  wildly,  and  meeting  with  many 
a  kick  and  blow  in  return. 

The  neighbours  began  to  look  out  at  their  shop-doors  and 
their  windows  ;  for  the  boys,  rapt  in  the  excitement  of  the 
sport,  no  longer  laid  any  restraint  upon  their  cries.  Andrew 
Constable,  the  clothier,  from  his  shop-door ;  Eob  Gruddle,  the 
barber,  from  his  window,  with  his  face  shadowed  by  Annie's 
curls  ;  Bedford,  the  bookseller,  from  the  top  of  the  stairs  that 
led  to  his  shop  ;  in  short,  the  whole  of  the  shopkeepers  on  the 
square  of  Glamerton  were  regarding  this  battle  of  odds.  The 
half-frozen  place  looked  half-alive.  But  none  of  the  good  folks 
cared  much  to  interfere,  for  flying  stones  are  not  pleasant  to 
encounter.  And  indeed  they  could  not  clearly  make  out  what 
was  the  matter. — In  a  minute  more,  a  sudden  lull  came  over 
the  hubbub.  They  saw  all  the  group  gather  together  in  a 
murmuring  knot. 

The  fact  was  this.  Although  cowardly  enough  now,  the 
brute,  infuriated  with  pain,  had  made  a  determined  rush  at  one 
of  her  antagonists,  and  a  short  hand-to-teeth  struggle  was  now 
taking  place,  during  which  the  stoning  ceased. 

"  She  has  a  grip  o'  my  leg,"  said  Alec  quietly  ;  "and  I  hae 
a  grip  o'  her  throat.  Curly,  pit  yer  han'  i'  my  jacket-pooch, 
an'  taly'  oot  a  bit  towie  ye'll  fin'  there." 

Curly  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  drew  out  a  yard  and  a  half 
of  garden-line. 

"  Jist  pit  it  wi'  ae  single  k-uot  roon'  her  neck,  an'  twa 
three  o'  ye  tak'  a  baud  at  ilka  en',  and  pu'  for  the  life  o'  ye !  " 

They  hauled  with  hearty  vigour.  Juno's  teeth  relaxed 
their  hold  of  Alec's  calf ;  in  another  minute  her  tongue  was 
hanging  out  her  mouth,  and  when  they  ceased  the  strain  she 
lay  limp  on  the  snow.  With  a  shout  of  triumph,  they  started 
off  at  full  speed,  dragging  tlie  brute  by  tlie  neck  through  the 
street.  Alec  essayed  to  follow  them  ;  but  found  his  leg  too 
painful ;  and  was  forced  to  go  limping  home. 

When  the  victors  had  run  till  they  were  out  of  breath,  they 
stopped  to  confer ;  and  the  result  of  their  conference  was  that 
in  solemn  silence  they  drew  her  home  to  the  back  gate,  and 
finding  all  still  in  the  yard,  deputed  two  of  their  company  to 
lay  the  dead  body  in  its  kennel. 

Curly  and  Linkum  drew  her  into  the  yard,  tumbled  her 
into  her  barrel,  which  they  set  up  on  end,  undid  the  string, 
and  left  Juno  lying  neck  and  tail  together  in  ignominious 
peace. 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  73 

Before  Alec  reached  home  his  leg  had  swollen  very  much, 
and  was  so  painful  that  he  could  hardly  limp  along ;  for  Juno 
had  taken  no  passing  snap,  but  a  great  strong  mouthful.  He 
concealed  his  condition  from  his  mother  for  that  night ;  but 
next  morning  his  leg  was  so  bad,  that  there  was  no  longer  a 
possibility  of  hiding  the  fact.  To  tell  a  lie  would  have  been  so 
hard  for  Alec,  that  he  had  scarcely  any  merit  in  not  telling 
one.  So  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  confession.  His  mother 
scolded  him  to  a  degree  considerably  beyond  her  own  sense  of 
the  wrong,  telling  him  he  would  get  her  into  disgrace  in  the 
town  as  the  mother  of  a  lawless  son,  who  meddled  with  other 
people's  property  in  a  way  little  better  than  stealing. 

"  I  fancy,  mamma,  a  loun's  legs  are  aboot  as  muckle  his 
ain  property  as  the  tyke  was  Rob  Bruce's.  It's  no  the  first 
time  she's  bitten  half  a  dizzen  legs  that  were  neither  her  ain 
nor  her  maister's." 

Mrs  Porbes  could  not  well  answer  this  argument ;  so  she 
took  advantage  of  the  fact  that  Alec  had,  in  the  excitement  of 
self-defence,  lapsed  into  Scotch. 

"  Don't  talk  so  vulgarly  to  me,  Alec,"  she  said  ;  "  keep  that 
for  your  ill-behaved  companions  in  the  town." 

"  They  are  no  worse  than  I  am,  mamma.  I  was  at  the 
bottom  of  it." 

"  I  never  said  they  were,"  she  answered. 

But  in  her  heart  she  thought  if  they  were  not,  there  was 
little  amiss  with  them. 


CHAPTEE  XVIII. 


Alec  was  once  more  condemned  to  the  sofa,  and  Annie  had 
to  miss  him,  and  wonder  what  had  become  of  him.  She  always 
felt  safe  when  Alec  was  there,  and  when  he  was  not  she  grew 
timid;  although  whole  days  would  sometimes  pass  without 
either  speaking  to  the  other.  But  before  the  morning  was 
over  she  learned  the  reason  of  his  absence. 

For  about  noon,  when  all  was  tolerably  harmonious  in  the 
school,  the  door  opened,  and  the  face  of  Kobert  Bruce  appeared, 
with  gleaming  eyes  of  wrath. 

"  Guid  preserve's !  "  said  Scrumpie  to  his  next  neighbour. 
"Sic  a  hidin'  as  we  s'  a'  get!  Here's  Eob  Bruce!  Wha's 
gane  and  tell't  him  ?  " 


74  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

But  some  of  the  gang  of  conspirators,  standing  in  a  class 
near  the  door,  stared  in  horror.  Amongst  them  was  Curly. 
His  companions  declared  afterwards  that  had  it  not  been  for 
the  strength  of  the  curl,  his  hair  would  have  stood  upright. 
For,  following  Bruce,  led  in  fact  by  a  string,  came  an  awful 
apparition — Juno  herself,  a  pitiable  mass  of  caninity — looking 
like  the  resuscitated  corpse  of  a  dog  that  had  been  nine  days 
buried,  crowded  with  lumps,  and  speckled  with  cuts,  going  on 
three  legs,  and  having  her  head  and  throat  swollen  to  a  size 
past  recognition. 

"  She's  no  deid  after  a' !  Deil  tak'  her  !  for  he's  in  her," 
said  Doddles. 

"  We  haena  killed  her  eneuch,"  said  Curly. 

"  I  tell't  ye.  Curly !  Te  had  little  ado  to  lowse  the  tow. 
She  wad  ha'  been  as  deid  afore  the  mornin'  as  Lucky  Gordon's 
cat  that  ye  cuttit  the  heid  aff  o',"  said  Linkum. 

"  Eh  !  but  she  luiks  bonnie  !  "  said  Curly,  trying  to  shake 
off  his  dismay.  "  Man,  we'll  hae't  a'  to  do  ower  again.  Sic 
fun ! " 

But  he  could  not  help  looking  a  little  rueful  when  Linkum 
expressed  a  wish  that  they  were  themselves  well  through  with 
their  share  of  the  killing. 

And  now  the  storm  began  to  break.  The  master  had  gone 
to  the  door  and  shaken  bands  with  his  visitor,  glancing  a 
puzzled  interrogation  at  the  miserable  animal  in  the  string, 
which  had  just  shape  enough  left  to  show  that  it  was  a  dog. 

"  I'm  verra  sorry,  Maister  Malison,  to  come  to  you  wi'  my 
complaints,"  said  Bruce ;  "  but  jist  luik  at  the  puir  dumb 
animal !  She  cudna  come  hersel',  an'  sae  I  bude  to  bring  her. 
Stan'  still,  ye  brute  !  " 

For  Juno  having  caught  sight  of  some  boy-legs,  through  a 
corner  of  one  eye  not  quite  bunged  vp,  began  to  tug  at  the 
string  with  feeble  earnestness — no  longer,  however,  regarding 
the  said  legs  as  made  for  dogs  to  bite,  but  as  fearful  instru- 
ments of  vengeance,  in  league  with  stones  and  cords.  So  the 
straining  and  pulling  was  all  homewards.  But  her  master  had 
brought  her  as  chief  witness  against  the  boys,  and  she  must 
remain  where  she  was. 

"  Eh,  lass  !  "  he  said,  hauling  her  back  by  the  string  ;  "  gin 
ye  had  but  the  tongue  o'  the  prophet's  ass,  ye  wad  sune  pint 
out  tlie  rascals  that  misguided  and  misgrugled  ye  that  gait. 
But  here's  the  just  judge  that'll  gie  ye  yer  richts,  and  that 
wi'oot  fee  or  reward. — Mr  Malison,  slie  was  aue  o'  the  bonniest 
bicks  ye  cud  set  yer  ee  upo' — " 

A  smothered  lausrh  gurgled  through  the  room. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  75 

— "  till  some  o'  your  loons — nae  oftence,  sir — I  ken  weel 
eneuch  they're  no  yours,  nor  a  bit  like  ye — some  o'  yoiw 
peowpils,  sir,  haejist  ca'd  {driven)  the  sowl  oot  o'  her  wi'  stanes." 

"  Whaur  does  the  sowl  o'  a  bitch  bide  ?  "  asked  Goat,  in  a 
"whisper,  of  his  neighbour. 

"De'il  kens,"  answered  Gapey  ;  "gin  it  binna  i'  the  bod- 
dom  o'  Rob  Bruce's  wame." 

The  master's  wrath,  ready  enough  to  rise  against  boys  and 
all  their  works,  now  showed  itself  in  the  growing  redness  of  his 
face.  This  was  not  one  of  his  worst  passions — in  them,  he 
grew  white — for  the  injury  had  not  been  done  to  himself. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  which  of  them  did  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  There  maun  hae  been  mair  nor  twa  or  three  at 
it,  or  she  wad  hae  worried  them.  The  best-natered  beast  i' 
the  toon ! " 

"  AVilliam  Macwha,"  cried  Malison. 

"Here,  sir." 

"Come  up." 

"Willie  ascended  to  the  august  presence.  He  had  made  up 
his  mind  that,  seeing  so  many  had  known  all  about  it,  and 
some  of  them  had  turned  cowards,  it  would  be  of  no  service  to 
deny  the  deed. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  this  cruelty  to  the  poor  dog, 
"William  ?  "  said  the  master. 

Willie  gave  a  Scotchman's  answer,  which,  while  evasive, 
was  yet  answer  and  more. 

"  She  bet  me,  sir." 

"  AVhen  ?     While  you  were  stoning  her  ?  " 

"No,  sir.     A  month  ago." 

"  Te're  a  leein'  vratch,  Willie  Macwha,  as  ye  weel  ken  i' 
yer  ain  conscience ! "  cried  Bruce.  "  She's  the  quaietest, 
kin'list  beast  'at  ever  was  wholpit.  See,  sir ;  jist  luik  ye  here. 
She'll  lat  me  pit  my  han'  in  her  mou',  an'  tak'  no  more  notice 
nor  gin  it  was  her  ain  tongue." 

Now  whether  it  was  that  the  said  tongue  was  still  swollen 
and  painful,  or  that  Juno,  conscious  of  her  own  ill  deserts,  dis- 
approved of  the  whole  proceeding,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  the  re- 
sult of  this  proof  of  her  temper  was  that  she  made  her  teeth 
meet  through  Bruce's  hand. 

"  Damn  the  bitch  !  "  he  roared,  snatching  it  away  with  the 
blood  beginning  to  flow. 

A  laugh,  not  smothered  this  time,  billowed  and  broke 
through  the  whole  school ;  for  the  fact  that  Bruce  should  be 
caught  swearing,  added  to  the  yet  more  delightful  fact  that 
Juno  had  bitten  her  master,  was  altogether  too  much. 


76  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

"  Eh  !  isua't  weel  we  didna  kill  her  efter  a'  ?  "  said  Curly. 
"  Gruid  doggie  !  "  said  another,  patting  his  own  knee,  as  if 
to  entice  her  to  come  and  be  caressed. 
"  At  him  again,  Juno  !  "  said  a  third. 
"  I'll  gie  her  a  piece  the  neist  time  I  see  her,"  said  Curly. 
Bruce,  writhing  with  pain,  and  mortified  at  the  result  of 
his  ocular  proof  of  Juno's  incapability  of  biting,  still  more 
mortified  at  having  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to  utter  an  oath, 
and  altogether  discomfited  by  the  laughter,  turned  away  in 
confusion. 

"  It's  a'  their  wyte,  the  baad  boys  !  She  never  did  the  like 
afore.  They  hae  ruined  her  temper,"  he  said,  as  he  left  the 
school,  following  Juno,  which  was  tugging  away  at  the  string 
as  if  she  had  been  a  blind  man's  dog. 

"  AVell,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself,  "William  ?  "  said 
Malison. 

"  She  began  't,  sir." 

This  best  of  excuses  would  not,  however,  satisfy  the  mas- 
ter. The  punishing  mania  had  possibly  taken  fresh  hold  upon 
him.     But  he  would  put  more  questions  first. 

"  Who  besides  you  tortured  the  poor  animal  ?  " 
Cui'ly  was  silent.     He  had  neither  a  very  high  sense  of 
honour,  nor  any  principles  to  come  and  go  upon ;  but  he  had 
a  considerable  amount  of  devotion  to  his  party,  which  is  the 
highest  form  of  conscience  to  be  found  in  many. 
"  Tell  me  their  names,  sir  ?  " 
Curly  was  still  silent. 

But  a  white-headed  urchin,  whom  innumerable  whippings, 
not  bribes,  had  corrupted,  cried  out  in  a  wavering  voice  : 

"  Sanny  Eorbes  was  ane  o'  them ;  an'  he's  no  here,  'cause 
Juno  worried  him." 

The  poor  creature  gained  little  by  his  treachery ;  for  the 
smallest  of  the  conspirators  fell  on  him  when  school  was  over, 
and  gave  him  a  thrashing,  which  he  deserved  more  than  ever 
one  of  Malison's. 

But  the  effect  of  Alec's  name  on  the  master  was  talismanie. 
He  changed  his  manner  at  once,  sent  Curly  to  his  seat,  and 
nothing  more  was  heard  of  Juno  or  her  master. 

The  opposite  neighbours  stared  across,  the  next  morning,  in. 
bewildered  astonishment,  at  the  place  Avhere  the  shop  of  llobert 
Bruce  had  been  wont  to  invite  the  public  to  enter  and  buy. 
Had  it  been  possible  for  an  avalanche  to  fall  like  a  thunderbolt 
from  the  heavens,  they  would  have  supposed  that  one  had 
fallen  in  the  night,  and  overwhelmed  tiie  house.  Door  and 
windows  were  invisible,   buried  with  the  rude  pavement  iu 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  77 

front  beneath  a  mass  of  snow.  Spades  and  shovels  in  boys' 
hands  had  been  busy  for  hours  during  the  night,  throwing  it 
up  against  the  house,  the  door  having  first  been  blocked  up 
with  a  huge  ball,  which  they  had  rolled  in  silence  the  whole 
length  of  the  long  street. 

Bruce  and  his  wife  slept  in  a  little  room  immediately  be- 
hind the  shop,  that  they  might  watch  over  their  treasures  ; 
and  Bruce's  first  movement  in  the  morning  was  always  into 
the  shop  to  unbolt  the  door  and  take  down  the  shutters.  His 
astonishment  when  he  looked  upon  a  blank  wall  of  snow  may 
be  imagined.  He  did  not  question  that  the  whole  town  was 
similarly  overwhelmed.  Such  a  snow-storm  had  never  been 
heard  of  before,  and  he  thought  with  uneasy  recollection  of  the 
oath  he  had  uttered  in  the  school-room  ;  imagining  for  a  mo- 
ment that  the  whole  of  Glamerton  lay  overwhelmed  by  the 
divine  wrath,  because  he  had,  under  the  agony  of  a  bite  from 
his  own  dog,  consigned  her  to  a  quarter  where  dogs  and  chil- 
dren are  not  admitted.     In  his  bewilderment,  he  called  aloud : 

"Nancy  !  Robbie  !  Johnnie!     We're  a'  beeriet  alive!  " 

"  Preserve's  a',  Robert !  what's  happent  ?  "  cried  his  wife, 
rushing  from  the  kitchen. 

"  I'm  no  beeriet,  that  I  ken  o',"  cried  Robert  the  younger, 
entering  from  the  yard. 

His  father  rushed  to  the  back-door,  and,  to  his  astonish- 
ment and  relief,  saw  the  whole  world  about  him.  It  was  a 
private  judgment,  then,  upon  him  and  his  shop.  And  so  it  was 
— a  very  private  judgment.  Probably  it  was  the  result  of  his 
meditations  upon  it,  that  he  never  after  carried  complaints  to 
Murdoch  Malison. 

Alec  Forbes  had  nothing  to  do  with  this  revenge.  But 
Bruce  always  thought  he  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  hated 
him  the  more.  He  disliked  all  loons  but  his  own ;  for  was  not 
the  spirit  of  loons  the  very  antipodes  to  that  of  money-making  ? 
But  Alec  Forbes  he  hated,  for  he  was  the  very  antipode  to 
Robert  Bruce  himself.  Mrs  Bruce  always  followed  her  hus- 
band's lead,  being  capable  only  of  two  devotions — the  one  to 
her  husband  and  children,  the  other  to  the  shop. — Of  Annie 
they  highly  and  righteously  disapproved,  partly  because  they 
had  to  feed  her,  and  partly  because  she  was  friendly  with  Alec. 
This  disapproval  rose  into  dislike  after  their  sons  had  told 
them  that  it  was  because  Juno  had  bitten  her  that  the  boys 
of  the  school,  with  Alec  for  a  leader,  had  served  her  as  they 
had.  But  it  was  productive  of  no  disadvantage  to  her;  for  it 
could  not  take  any  active  form  because  of  the  money-bond  be- 
tween them,  while  its  negative  operation  gave  rise  chiefly  to 


78  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

neglect,  and  so  left  her  more  at  liberty,  to  enjoy  herself  as  she 
could  after  her  own  fashion. 

For  the  rest  of  Juno's  existence,  the  moment  she  caught 
sight  of  a  boy  she  fled  as  fast  as  her  four  bow-legs  would  carry 
her,  not  daring  even  to  let  her  tail  stick  out  behind  her,  lest  it 
should  afford  a  handle  against  her. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


"Wheis"  Annie  heard  that  Alec  had  been  bitten  she  was 
miserable.  She  knew  his  bite  must  be  worse  than  hers,  or  he 
would  not  be  kept  at  home.  Might  she  not  venture  to  go  and 
see  him  again  ?  The  modesty  of  a  maidenly  child  made  her 
fear  to  intrude  ;  but  she  could  not  constrain  her  feet  from  fol- 
lowing the  path  to  his  house.  And  as  it  was  very  dusk,  what 
harm  could  there  be  in  going  just  inside  the  gate,  and  on  to  the 
green  ?  Through  the  parlour  windows  she  saw  the  fire  burn- 
ing bright,  and  a  shadow  moving  across  the  walls  and  tlie  ceil- 
ing ;  but  she  could  not  make  xip  her  mind  to  knock  at  the 
door,  for  she  was  afraid  of  Mrs  Forbes,  notwithstanding  her 
kindness.  So  she  wandered  on — for  here  there  was  no  dog — 
wondering  what  that  curious  long  mound  of  snow,  with  the 
round  heap  at  the  end,  by  the  flag-staff",  could  be  ?  What 
could  Alec  have  made  it  for  ?  Examining  it  closely  all  along, 
she  came  to  the  end  of  it  next  the  house,  and  looking  round, 
saw  that  it  was  hollow.  Without  a  moment's  thought,  for  she 
had  no  fear  of  Alec,  she  entered.  The  passage  was  dark,  but 
she  gi'oped  her  way,  on  and  on,  till  she  came  to  the  cell  at  the 
end.  Here  a  faint  ghostly  light  glimmered  ;  for  Alec  had 
cleared  a  small  funnel  upwards  through  the  roof,  almost  to  the 
outside,  so  that  a  thin  light  filtered  through  a  film  of  snow. 
This  light  being  reflected  from  the  white  surface  of  the  cave, 
showed  it  all  throbbing  about  her  with  a  faint  bluish  white, 
ever  and  anon  whelmed  in  the  darkness  and  again  glimmering 
out  through  its  folds.  She  seated  herself  on  a  ledge  of  snow 
that  ran  all  round  tlie  foundation.  It  was  not  so  cold  here  as 
in  the  outer  air,  where  a  liglit  frosty  wind  was  blowing  across 
the  world  of  snow.  And  slie  had  not  sat  long,  before,  accord- 
ing to  her  custom  when  left  to  liorself,  she  fell  fast  asleep. 

Meantime  Aloe,  his  mother  liaving  gone  to  the  town,  was 
sitting  alone,  finishing,  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  the  last  of  a 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  79 

story.  At  length  the  dreariness  of  an  ended  tale  was  about 
him,  and  he  felt  the  inactivity  to  which  he  had  been  compelled 
all  day  no  longer  tolerable.  He  would  go  and  see  how  his 
snow-chamber  looked  by  candlelight.  His  mother  had  told 
him  not  to  go  out ;  but  that,  he  reasoned,  could  hardly  be 
called  going  out,  when  there  was  not  more  than  a  yard  of  open 
air  to  cross.  So  he  got  a  candle,  was  out  of  the  window  in  a 
moment,  notwithstanding  his  lameness,  and  crept  through  the 
long  vault  of  snow  towards  the  inmost  recess.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  end  he  started.  Could  he  believe  his  eyes  ?  A 
figure  was  there — motionless — dead  perhaps.  He  went  on — 
he  went  in — and  there  he  saw  Annie,  leaning  against  the  white 
wall,  with  her  white  face  turned  up  to  the  frozen  ceiling.  She 
might  have  been  the  frost-queen,  the  spirit  that  made  the  snow, 
and  built  the  hut,  and  dwelt  in  it ;  for  all  the  powers  that  rivify 
nature  must  be  children.  The  popular  imagination  seems  to 
have  caught  this  truth,  for  all  the  fairies  and  gnomes  and 
goblins,  yes,  the  great  giants  too,  are  only  ditferent  sizes,  shapes, 
and  characters  of  children.  But  I  have  wandered  from  Alec's 
thoughts  into  my  own.  He  knew  it  was  Annie,  and  no  strange 
creature  of  the  elements.  And  if  he  had  not  come,  she  might 
have  slept  on  till  her  sleep  was  too  deep  for  any  voice  of  the 
world  to  rouse  her. 

It  was,  even  then,  with  difficulty  that  he  woke  her.  He  took 
hold  of  her  hands,  but  she  did  not  move.  He  sat  down,  took 
her  in  his  arms,  spoke  to  her — got  frightened  and  shook  her, 
but  she  would  not  open  her  eyes.  Her  long  dark  eyelashes 
sloped  still  upon  her  white  cheek,  like  the  low  branches  of  a 
cedar  upon  the  lawn  at  its  foot.  But  he  knew  she  was  not  dead 
yet,  for  he  could  feel  her  heart  beating.  At  length  she  lifted 
her  eyelids,  looked  up  in  his  face,  gave  a  low  happy  laugh,  like 
the  laugh  of  a  dreaming  child,  and  was  fast  asleep  again  in  a 
moment. 

Alec  hesitated  no  longer.  He  rose  with  her  in  his  arms, 
carried  her  into  the  parlour,  and  laid  her  down  on  the  rug  be- 
fore the  fire,  with  a  sofa-pillow  under  her  head.  There  she 
might  have  her  sleep  out.  When  Mrs  Forbes  came  home  she 
found  Alec  reading,  and  Annie  sleeping  by  the  fireside.  Before 
bis  mother  had  recovered  from  her  surprise,  and  while  she  was 
yet  staring  at  the  lovely  little  apparition.  Alec  had  the  first 
word. 

"  Mamma  !  "  he  said,  "  I  found  her  sleeping  in  my  snow  hut 
there ;  and  if  I  had  not  brought  her  in,  she  would  have  been 
dead  by  this  time." 

"  Poor  little  darling  !  "  thought  Mrs  Forbes  ;  but  she  was 


80  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

Scotch,  and  therefore  she  did  not  say  it.  But  she  stooped,  and 
drew  the  child  back  from  the  fire,  lest  she  should  have  her  face 
scorched,  and  after  making  the  tea,  proceeded  to  put  off  her 
bonnet  and  shawl.  By  the  time  she  had  got  rid  of  them,  Annie 
was  beginning  to  move,  and  Alee  rose  to  go  to  her. 

"  Let  her  alone,"  said  his  mother.  "  Let  her  come  to  her- 
self by  degrees.     Come  to  the  table." 

Alec  obeyed.  They  could  see  that  Annie  had  opened  her 
eyes,  and  lay  staring  at  the  fire.  What  was  she  thinking  about  ? 
She  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  snow-hut,  and  here  she  was  by  a 
bright  fire ! 

"  Annie,  dear,  come  to  your  tea,"  were  the  first  words  she 
heard.  She  rose  and  went,  and  sat  down  at  the  table  with  a 
smile,  taking  it  all  as  the  gift  of  God,  or  a  good  dream,  and 
never  asking  how  she  had  come  to  be  so  happy. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 


The  spirit  of  mischief  had  never  been  so  thoroughly  aroused 
in  the  youth  of  Glamerton  as  it  was  this  winter.  The  snow 
lay  very  deep,  while  almost  every  day  a  fresh  fall  added  to  its 
depth,  and  this  rendered  some  of  their  winter-amusements  im- 
possible ;  while  not  many  of  them  had  the  imagination  of  Alec 
Forbes  to  suggest  new  ones.  At  the  same  time  the  cold  in- 
creased, and  strengthened  their  impulses  to  muscular  exertion. 

"  Thae  loons  are  jist  growin'  perfect  deevils,"  said  Charlie 
Chapman,  the  wool-carder,  as  he  bolted  into  his  own  shop,  Avith 
the  remains  of  a  snowball  melting  down  the  back  of  his  neck. 
"We  maunhae  anither  constable  to  hand  them  in  order." 

The  existing  force  was  composed  of  one  long-legged,  short- 
bodied,  middle-aged  man,  who  was  so  slow  in  his  motions,  ap- 
parently from  the  weight  of  his  feet,  which  were  always  drag- 
ging behind  him,  that  the  boys  called  him  Stumpin'  Steenie 
{dim.  for  "  SfepJie7i''''),  and  stood  in  no  more  awe  of  liim  than 
they  did  of  his  old  cow — -which,  her  owner  being  a  widower, 
they  called  Mrs  Steplien — when  she  went  u]i  the  street,  hardly 
able  to  waddle  along  for  the  weight  of  her  udder.  So  there  was 
some  little  ground  for  the  wool-carder's  remark.  How  nuich 
a  second  constable  would  have  availed,  however,  is  doubtful. 

"  I  never  saw  sic  widdiefows !  "  {gallows-hirdx),  chimed  in  a 
farmer's  wife  who  was  standing  in  the  shop.     "  They  had  a  tow 


ALEC    FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN.  81 

across  the  "Wast  "Wynd  i'  the  snaw,  an'  doon  I  cam  o'  my  niz, 
as  sure's  your  name's  Charles  Chapman — and  mair  o'  my  legs 
cot  o'  my  coats,  I  dooht,  than  was  a'thegither  to  my  credit." 

"  I'm  sure  ye  can  hae  no  rizzon  to  tak'  shame  o'  your  legs, 
gude  wife,"  was  the  gallant  rejoinder ;  to  which  their  owner 
replied,  with  a  laugh  : 
"    "  Tliey  warna  made  for  public  inspection,  ony  gait." 

"  Hoot !  hoot !  Naebody  saw  them.  I  s'  warran'  ye  didna 
lielang!  Butthaeloous — they're  jist  past  a' !  Heard  ye  hoc 
they  saired  Hob  Bruce  ?  " 

"Pegs  !  they  tell  me  they  a'  but  buried  him  alive." 

"  Ow  !  ay.     But  it's  a  later  story,  the  last." 

"  It's  a  pity  there's  no  a  dizzen  or  twa  o'  them  in  Awbra- 
hawm's  boasom. — What  did  they  till  him  neist  ?  " 

Here  Andrew  Constable  dropped  in,  and  Chapman  turned 
towards  him  with  the  question  : 

"  Did  ye  hear,  Mr  Constable,  what  the  loons  did  to  Eobert 
Bruce  the  nicht  afore  last  ?  " 

"  No.  What  was  that  ?  They  hae  a  spite  at  puir  Eob,  I 
believe." 

"Weel,  it  didna  look  a'thegither  like  respeck,  I  maun 
alloo. — I  was  stannin'  at  the  coonter  o'  his  shop  waitin'  for  an 
unce  o'  sneeshin' ;  and  Kobert  he  was  servin'  a  bit  bairuie  ower 
the  coonter  wi'  a  pennyworth  o'  triacle,  when,  in  a  jiffey,  there 
cam'  sic  a  blast,  an'  a  reek  fit  to  smore  ye,  oot  o'  the  bit  fire, 
an'  the  shop  was  fu'  o'  reek,  afore  ye  could  hae  pitteu  the  pint 
o'  ae  thoom  upo'  the  pint  o'  the  ither.  '  Preserve's  a' !  '  cried 
Eob  ;  but  or  he  could  say  anither  word,  butt  the  house,  scushlin 
in  her  bauchles,  comes  Nancy,  rinnin',  an'  opens  the  door  wi'  a 
scraich  ;  'Preserve's  a'!'  quo'  she,  'liobert,  the  lum's  in  a 
low  ! '  An'  fegs  !  atween  the  twa  reeks,  to  sunder  them,  there 
was  nothing  but  Nancy  hersel.  The  hoose  was  as  fu'  as  it  cud 
baud,  frae  cellar  to  garret,  o'  the  blackest  reek  'at  ever  crap  oot 
o'  coal.  Oot  we  ran,  an'  it  was  a  sicht  to  see  the  crater  wi'  his 
lang  neck  luikin'  up  at  the  cliimleys.  But  deil  a  spark  cam' 
oot  o'  them — or  reek  either,  for  that  maitter.  It  was  easy  to  see 
what  was  amiss.  The  loons  had  been  o'  the  riggin,  and  flung  a 
han'fu'  o'  blastin'  powther  down  ilka  smokin'  cliimley,  and  syne 
clappit  a  divot  or  a  truf  upo'  the  mou'  o'  't.  Deil  aue  o'  them 
was  iu  sicht,  but  I  doobt  gin  ony  o'  them  was  far  awa'.  There 
was  naething  for't  but  get  a  ladder,  and  jist  gang  up  an'  tak 
aft"  the  pot-lids.  But  eh  !  puir  llobert  was  jist  rampin'  wi' 
rage !  No'at  he  said  muckle,  for  he  daur  hardly  open  his  mou' 
for  sweerin' ;  and  liobert  wadna  sweer,  ye  ken  ;  but  he  waa 
neither  to  baud  nor  bin'." 

6 


82  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"What  laddies  war  they,  Charles,  do  ye  ken?"  asked 
Andi'cw. 

"  There's  a  heap  o'  them  up  to  tricks.  Giu  I  haeua  the 
rheumateese  screwiu'  awa'  atweeu  my  shoothers  the  uicht  it 
wonna  be  their  fau'ts  ;  for  as  I  cam'  ower  frae  the  ironmonger's 
there,  I  jist  got  a  ba'  i'  the  how  o'  my  neck,  'at  amaist  sent  me 
howkin'  wi'  my  snoot  i'  the  suaw.  And  there  it  stack,  and  at 
this  preceese  moment  it's  rinuin'  dbon  the  sma'  o'  my  back  as 
gin  't  war  a  burnie  doon  a  hillside.  We  maun  hae  mair  con- 
stables !  " 

"  Hoot !  toot !  Charles.  Ye  dinna  want  a  constable  to  dry 
yer  back.  Gang  to  the  gudewife  wi'  't,"  said  Andrew,  "  she'll 
gie  ye  a  dry  sark.  Na,  na.  Lat  the  laddies  work  it  aff.  As 
lang's  they  baud  their  ban's  frae  what  doesna  beLang  to  them,  I 
dinna  miu'  a  bit  ploy  uoo  and  than.  They'll  noo  turn  oot  the 
waur  men  for  a  pliskie  ortwa." 

The  fact  was,  none  of  the  boys  would  have  dreamed  of  in- 
terfering with  Andrew  Constable.  Everybody  respected  him  ; 
not  because  he  was  an  elder  of  the  kirk,  but  because  he  was  a 
good-tempered,  kindly,  honest  man  ;  or  to  sum  up  all  in  one 
word — a  douce  cliield — by  which  word  douce  is  indicated  every 
sort  of  propriety  of  behaviour — a  virtue  greatly  esteemed  by  tht 
Scotch.     This  adjective  was  universally  applied  to  Andrew. 

While  Alec  was  confined  to  the  house,  he  had  been  busy  in- 
venting all  kinds  of  employments  for  the  period  of  the  snow. 
His  lessons  never  occupied  much  of  his  thoughts,  and  no  pains 
having  yet  been  taken  to  discover  in  what  direction  his  tastes 
inclined  him,  he  had  of  course  to  cater  for  himself.  The  first 
day  of  his  return,  when  school  was  over,  he  set  oif  rejoicing  in 
his  freedom,  for  a  ramble  through  the  snow,  still  revolving  what 
he  was  to  do  next ;  for  he  wanted  some  steady  employment 
with  an  end  in  view.  In  the  course  of  bis  solitary  walk,  he 
came  to  the  Wan  Water,  the  other  river  that  flowed  through 
the  wide  valley — and  wan  enough  it  was  now  with  its  snow- 
sheet  over  it !  As  he  stood  looking  at  its  still,  dead  face,  and 
lamenting  that  the  snow  lay  too  deep  over  the  ice  to  admit  of 
skating,  by  a  sudden  reaction,  a  summer-vision  of  the  live  water 
arose  before  him  ;  and  he  thought  how  delightful  it  would  be 
to  go  sailing  down  the  sparkling  ripples,  witli  the  green  fields 
all  about  him,  and  the  hot  afternoon  sun  over  his  head.  That 
would  be  better  even  than  scudding  along  it  on  his  skates.  His 
next  thought  was  at  once  an  idea  and  a  resolve.  Why  should 
he  not  build  a  boat?  He  tcouhl  build  a  boat.  He  would  set 
about  it  directly. — Here  was  work  for  the  rest  of  the  winter  ! 

His  first  step  must  be  to  go  home  and  have  his  dinner ;  his 


ALEC   FOEBES    OF   HOWGLEN.  83 

next — to  consult  George  Macwha,  who  had  been  a  ship-car- 
penter in  his  youth.  He  would  run  over  in  the  evening  before 
George  should  have  dropped  work,  and  commit  the  plan  to  his 
judgment. 

In  the  evening,  then,  Alec  reached  the  town,  on  his  way  to 
George  Macwha.  It  was  a  still  lovely  night,  clear  and  frosty, 
with — yes,  there  were — millions  of  stars  overhead.  Away  in 
the  north,  the  streamers  were  shooting  hither  and  thither,  with 
marvellous  evanescence  and  re-generation.  No  dance  of  gob- 
lins could  be  more  lawless  in  its  grotesqueness  than  this  dance 
of  the  northern  lights  in  their  ethereal  beauty,  shining,  with  a 
wild  ghostly  changeful ness  and  feebleness,  all  colours  at  once; 
now  here,  now  there,  like  a  row  of  slender  organ-pipes,  rolling 
out  and  in  and  along  the  sky.  Or  they  might  have  been  the 
chords  of  some  gigantic  stringed  instrument,  which  chords  be- 
came visible  only  when  mighty  hands  of  music  struck  their  keys 
and  set  them  vibrating  ;  so  that,  as  the  hands  swept  up  and 
dovm  the  Titanic  key-board,  the  chords  themselves  seemed  to 
roll  along  the  heavens,  though  in  truth  some  vanished  here  and 
others  appeared  yonder.  Up  and  down  they  darted,  and  away 
and  back — and  always  in  the  direction  he  did  not  expect  them 
to  take.  He  thought  he  heard  them  crackle,  and  he  stood  still 
to  listen ;  but  he  could  not  be  sure  that  it  was  not  the  snow 
sinking  and  crisping  beneath  his  feet.  All  around  him  was  still 
as  a  world  too  long  frozen  :  in  the  heavens  alone  was  there 
motion.  There  this  entrancing  dance  of  colour  and  shape  went 
on,  wide  beneath,  and  tapering  up  to  the  zenith  !  Truly  there 
was  revelry  in  heaven  !  One  might  have  thought  that  a  prodi- 
gal son  had  just  got  home,  and  that  the  music  and  the  dancing 
had  begun,  of  which  only  the  far-off  rhythmic  shine  could  reach 
the  human  sense  ;  for  a  dance  in  heaven  might  well  show  itself 
in  colour  to  the  eyes  of  men. — Alec  went  on  till  the  lights  from 
the  windows  of  the  town  began  to  throw  shadows  across  the 
snow.  The  street  was  empty.  From  end  to  end  nothing  moved 
but  an  occasional  shadow.  As  he  came  near  to  INIacwha's  shop, 
he  had  to  pass  a  row  of  cottages  which  stood  with  their  backs 
to  a  steep  slope.  Here  too  all  was  silent  as  a  frozen  city.  But 
when  he  was  about  opposite  the  middle  of  the  row,  he  heard  a 
stifled  laugh,  and  then  a  kind  of  muffled  sound  as  of  hurrying 
steps,  and,  in  a  moment  after,  every  door  in  the  row  was  torn 
open,  and  out  bolted  the  inhabitants — here  an  old  woman,  halt- 
ing on  a  stick  as  she  came,  there  a  shoemaker,  with  last  and 
awl  in  his  hands,  here  a  tailor  with  his  shears,  and  there  a 
whole  family  of  several  trades  and  ages.  Every  one  rushed  into 
the  middle  of  the  road,  turned  right  round  and  looked  up.  Then 


84  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

arose  such  a  clamour  of  tongues,  that  it  broke  on  the  still  air 
like  a  storm, 

"AVhat's  ado,  Betty  ?  "  asked  Alec  of  a  decrepit  old  creature, 
bent  almost  double  with  rheumatism,  who  was  trying  hard  to 
see  something  or  other  in  the  air  or  on  the  roof  of  her  cottage. 

But  before  she  could  speak,  the  answer  came  in  another 
form,  addressing  itself  to  his  nose  instead  of  his  ears.  Tor  out 
of  the  cottages  floated  clouds  of  smoke,  pervading  the  air  with 
a  variety  of  scents — of  burning  oak-bark,  of  burning  leather- 
cuttings,  of  damp  fire-wood  and  peat,  of  the  cooking  of  red  her- 
rings, of  the  boiling  of  porridge,  of  the  baking  of  oat-cake,  &e., 
&c.  Happily  for  ail  the  inhabitants,  "  thae  deevils  o'  loons" 
had  used  no  powder  here. 

But  the  old  woman,  looking  round  when  Alec  spoke,  and 
seeing  that  he  was  one  of  the  obnoxious  school-boys,  broke  out 
thus : 

"  Gang  an'  tak  the  divot  (Jurf)  oS  o'  my  lum,  Alec,  there's 
a  good  laad !  Te  sudna  play  sic  tricks  on  puir  auld  bodies  like 
me,  near  brackin'  in  twa  wi'  the  rheumateeze.  I'm  jist  greetin' 
wi'  the  reek  i'  my  auld  een." 

And  as  she  spoke  she  wiped  her  eyes  with  her  apron. 

Alec  did  not  wait  to  clear  himself  of  an  accusation  so  gently 
put,  but  was  on  the  roof  of  Luckie  Lapp's  cottage  before  she 
had  finished  her  appeal  to  his  generosity.  He  took  the  "  divot 
aflF  o'  her  lum  "  and  pitched  it  halfway  down  the  brae,  at  the 
back  of  the  cottage.  Then  he  scrambled  from  one  chimney  to 
the  other,  and  went  on  pitching  the  sods  down  the  hill.  At 
length  two  of  the  inhabitants,  who  had  climbed  up  at  the  other 
end  of  tlie  row,  met  him,  and  taking  him  for  a  repentant  sinner 
at  best,  made  him  prisoner,  much  to  his  amusement,  and 
brought  him  down,  protesting  that  it  was  too  bad  of  gentle- 
folk's sons  to  persecute  the  poor  in  that  way. 

"  I  didn't  do  it,"  said  Alec. 

"  Diuna  lee,"  was  the  curt  rejoinder. 

"  I'm  no  loein'." 

"  Wha  did  it,  than  ?  " 

"  I  can  guiss  ;  an'  it  shauna  happen  again,  gin  I  can  help  it.'" 

"  Tell's  wha  did  it,  than." 

"  I  wonno  say  names." 

"He's  ane  o'  them." 

"  The  foul  thief  tak  him  !  I  s'  gie  him  a  hidiu',"  said  a  burly 
sutor  {shoemaker)  coming  up.  "  Thae  loons  are  uo  to  be  borne 
n'i'  ony  ] anger." 

And  he  caught  Alec  by  the  arm. 

"  1  didn't  do  it,"  persisted  Alec. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEX.  85 

"  Wha  killed  Rob  Bruce's  dog  ?  "  asked  the  sutor,  squeezing 
Alec's  arm  to  point  the  question. 

"  I  did,"  answered  Alee  ;  "  and  I  will  do  yours  the  same 
guid  turn,  gin  he  worries  bairns." 

"  And  quite  richt,  too  !  "  said  the  sutor's  wife.  "  Lat  him 
gang,  Donal.     I'll  be  boun'  he's  no  ane  o'  them." 

"Tell's  a'  aboot  it,  than.     Hoo  cam  ye  up  there  ?  " 

"  I  gaed  up  to  tak  the  divot  aff"  o'  Lucky  Lapp's  lum.  Spier 
at  her.  Ance  up  I  thocht  I  micht  gie  the  lave  o'  ye  a  gude 
turn,  and.  this  is  a'  I  get  foi^'t." 

"  Weel,  weel !  Come  in  and  warm  ye,  than,"  said  the  shoe- 
maker, convinced  at  last. 

So  Alec  went  in  and  had  a  chat  with  them,  and  then  went 
on  to  George  Macwha's. 

The  carpenter  took  to  his  scheme  at  once.  Alec  was  a  fair 
hand  at  all  sorts  of  tool-work ;  and  being  on  the  friendliest 
terms  with  Macwha,  it  was  soon  arranged  that  the  keel  should 
be  laid  in  the  end  of  the  workshop,  and  that,  under  George's 
directions,  and  what  help  Willie  chose  to  render.  Alec  should 
build  his  boat  himself.  Just  as  they  concluded  these  prelimin- 
aries, in  came  Willie,  wiping  some  traces  of  blood  from  his  nose. 
He  made  a  pantomimic  gesture  of  vengeance  at  Alec. 

"  What  hae  ye  been  efter  noo,  laddie  ?"  asked  his  father. 

"  Alec's  jist  gien  me  a  bluidy  nose,"  said  Willie. 

"  Hoo  cam'  that  aboot  ?  Te  weel  deserved  it,  I  hae  nae 
doobt.     Jist  gie  him  anither  whan  he  wants  it.  Alec." 

"  What  do  ye  mean,  Curly  ?  "  asked  Alec  in  amazement. 

"Ton  divot  'at  ye  flang  aff  o'  Luckie  Lapp's  riggin',"  said 
Curly,  "cam'  richt  o'  the  back  o'  my  heid,  as  I  lay  o'  the  brae, 
and  dang  the  blude  oot  at  my  niz.  That's  a'. — Te'U  preten'  ye 
didna  see  me,  nae  doobt." 

"  I  say,  Curly,"  said  Alec,  putting  his  arm  round  his  shoul- 
ders, and  leading  him  aside,  "  we  maun  hae  nae  mair  o'  this  kin' 
o'  wark.  It's  a  dam't  shame!  Do  ye  see  nae  differ  atween 
chokin'  an  ill-faured  tyke  an'  chokin'  a  puir  widow's  lum  ?" 

"  'Tvvas  only  for  fun." 

"  It's  ill  fun  that  baith  sides  canna  lauch  at.  Curly." 

"  Rob  Bruce  wasna  lauchin'  whan  he  brocht  the  bick  to  the 
schuil,  nor  yet  whan  he  gaed  hame  again." 

"  That  was  nae  fun.  Curly.     Tliat  was  doonricht  earnest." 

"Weel,  weel,  Alec;  say  nae  mair  aboot  it." 

"  No  more  I  will.  But  gin  I  was  you,  Curly,  I  wad  tak 
Lucky  a  seek  o'  spales  the  morn." 

"  I'll  tak  them  the  nicht,  Alec. — Father,  hae  ye  an  auld  seek 
ony  gait  ?" 


86  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  There's  ane  up  i'  the  laft.     What  want  ye  wi'  a  seek  ?" 

But  Curly  was  in  the  loft  almost  before  the  question  had 
left  his  father's  lips.  He  was  down  again  in  a  moment,  and  on 
his  knees  tilling  the  sack  with  shavings  and  all  the  chips  he  could 
find. 

"  Gie's  a  han'  up  wi't,  Alec,"  he  said. 

And  in  a  moment  more  Curly  was  off"  to  Widow  Lapp  with 
his  bag  of  firing, 

"  He's  a  fine  chield  that  AVillie  o'  yours,  George,"  said 
Alec  to  the  father.  "  He  only  wants  to  hae  a  thing  weel  pitten 
afore  him,  an'  he  jist  acts  upo'  't  direckly. 

"  It's  weel  he  maks  a  cronie  o'  you,  Alec.  There's  a  heap 
o'  mischeef  in  him.     AVhaur's  he  aff"  wi  thae  spells  ?" 

Alec  told  the  story,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  George,  who 
could  appreciate  the  repentance  of  his  son ;  although  he  was 
"  nane  o'  the  unco  guid  "  himself.  Erom  that  day  he  thought 
more  of  his  son,  and  of  Alec  as  well. 

"  Noo,  Curly,"  said  Alec,  as  soon  as  he  re-appeared  with  the 
empty  sack,  "  yer  father's  gaein  to  lat  me  big  a  boat,  an'  ye 
maun  help  me." 

"  What's  the  use  o'  a  boat  i'  this  weather  ?"  said  Curly. 

"Ye  gomeril!"  returned  his  father  ;  ye  never  luik  an  inch 
afore  the  pint  o'  yer  ain  neb.  Ye  wadna  think  o'  a  boat  afore 
the  spring ;  an'  haith  !  the  summer  wad  be  ower,  an'  the  water 
frozen  again,  afore  ye  had  it  biggit.  Luik  at  Alec  there.  He's 
worth  ten  o'  you. 

"  I  ken  that  ilka  bit  as  weel's  ye  do,  father.  Jist  set's  aft' 
wi'  't,  father." 

"  I  canna  attend  till't  jist  i'  the  noo  ;  but  I  s'  set  ye  aff"  wi'  't 
the  morn's  nicht." 

So  here  was  an  end  to  the  troubles  of  the  townsfolks  from 
the  loo7is,  and  without  any  increase  of  the  constabulary  force ; 
for  Curly  being  withdrawn,  there  was  no  one  else  of  sufficiently 
inventive  energy  to  take  the  lead,  and  the  loons  ceased  to  be 
dangerous  to  the  peace  of  the  community.  Curly  soon  had  both 
his  head  and  his  hands  quite  occupied  with  boat-building. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


EvEET  afternoon,  now,  the  moment  dinner  was  over,  Alec 
set  off  for  the  workshop,  and  did  not  return  till  eight  o'clock, 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  87 

or  sometimes  later.     Mrs  Forbes  did  not  at  all  relish  this  change 
in  his  habits ;  but  she  had  the  good  sense  not  to  interfere. 

One  day  he  persuaded  her  to  go  with  him,  and  see  how  the 
boat  was  getting  on.  This  enticed  her  into  some  sympathy 
with  his  new  pursuit.  For  there  was  the  boat — a  skeleton  it  is 
true,  and  not  nearly  ready  yet  for  the  clothing  of  its  planks,  or 
its  final  skin  of  paint — yet  an  undeniable  boat  to  the  motherly 
eye  of  hope.  And  there  were  Alec  and  Willie  working  away 
before  her  eyes,  doing  their  best  to  fulfil  the  promise  of  its  looks. 
A  little  quiet  chat  she  had  with  George  Macwha,  in  which  he 
poured  forth  the  praises  of  her  boy,  did  not  a  little,  as  well,  to 
reconcile  her  to  his  desertion  of  her. 

"  Deed,  mem,"  said  George,  whose  acquaintance  with  Scrip- 
ture was  neither  extensive  nor  precise,  "  to  my  mind  he's  jist  a 
fulfilment  o'  the  prophecee,  '  An  auld  held  upo'  young  shou- 
thers  ; '  though  I  canna  richtly  min'  whilk  o'  the  lesser  pro- 
phets it  is  that  conteens  't." 

But  J\Irs  Forbes  never  saw  a  little  figure,  lying  in  a  corner, 
half-buried  in  wood-shavings,  and  utterly  unconscious  of  her 
presence,  being  fast  asleep. 

This  was,  of  course,  Annie  Anderson,  who  having  heard  of 
the  new  occupation  of  her  hero,  had,  one  afternoon,  three  weeks 
before  Mrs  Forbes's  visit,  found  herself  at  George's  shop  door, 
she  hardly  knew  how.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  followed 
her  feet,  and  they  had  taken  her  there  before  she  knew  where 
they  wei'e  going.  Peeping  in,  she  watched  Alec  and  AVillie  for 
some  time  at  their  ,vork,  without  ventui'ing  to  show  herself. 
But  George,  who  came  up  behind  her  as  she  stood,  and  per- 
ceived her  interest  in  the  operations  of  the  boys,  took  her  by 
the  hand,  and  led  her  in,  saying  kindly  : 

"  Here's  a  new  apprentice.  Alec.  She  wants  to  learn  boat- 
biggin." 

"  Ou  !  Annie,  is  that  you,  lassie  ?  Come  awa',"  said  Alec. 
"  There's  a  fine  heap  o'  spales  ye  can  sit  upo',  and  see  what 
we're  aboot." 

And  so  saying  he  seated  her  on  the  shavings,  and  half-buried 
her  with  an  armful  more  to  keep  her  warm. 

"  Put  to  the  door,  "Willie,"  he  added.  "  She'll  be  cauld. 
She's  no  workin',  ye  see." 

Whereupon  Willie  shut  the  door,  and  Annie  found  herself 
very  comfortable  indeed.  There  she  sat,  in  perfect  contentment, 
watching  the  progress  of  the  boat — a  progress  not  very  percep- 
tible to  her  inexperienced  eyes,  for  the  building  of  a  boat  is  like 
the  building  of  a  city  or  the  making  of  a  book  :  it  turns  out  a 
boat  at  last.  But  after  she  had  sat  for  a  good  while  in  silence, 
she  looked  up  at  Alec,  and  said  : 


80  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

"  Is  there  naething  I  can  do  to  help  ye,  Alec  ?  " 

"  Naething,  Annie.  Lassies  canna  saw  or  plane,  ye  ken. 
Te  wad  tak'  alf  yer  ain  lugs  in  a  jifFey." 

Again  she  was  silent  for  a  long  time  ;  and  then,  with  a  sigh, 
she  looked  up  and  said : 

"  Alec,  I'm  so  cauld  !  " 

"  I'll  bring  my  plaid  to  row  ye  in  the  morn's  nicht." 

Annie's  heart  bounded  for  joy  ;  for  here  was  what  amounted 
to  an  express  inA'itation  for  to-morrow. 

"But,"  Alec  went  on,  "come  wi'  me,  and  we'll  sune  get  ye 
warm  again.     Gie's  yer  ban'." 

Annie  gave  Alec  her  hand ;  and  he  lifted  her  out  of  her 
heap  of  spales,  and  led  lier  away.  She  never  thought  of  asking 
where  he  was  leading  her.  They  had  not  gone  far  down  the 
close,  when  a  roaring  sound  fell  upon  her  ear,  growing  louder 
and  louder  as  they  Avent  on  ;  till,  turning  a  sharp  corner,  there 
they  saw  the  smithy  fire.  The  door  of  the  smithy  was  open, 
and  they  could  see  the  smith  at  work  some  distance  oft".  The 
fire  glowed  with  gathered  rage  at  the  impudence  of  the  bellows 
blowing  in  its  face.  The  huge  smith,  with  one  arm  flung  affec- 
tionately over  the  shoulder  of  the  insulting  party,  urged  it  to 
the  contest ;  while  he  stirred  up  the  other  to  increased  ferocity, 
by  poking  a  piece  of  iron  into  the  very  middle  of  it.  How  the 
angry  glare  started  out  of  it  and  stared  all  the  murky  sviiddy  in 
the  face,  showiug  such  gloomy  holes  and  corners  in  it,  and  such 
a  lot  of  horse-shoes  hung  up  close  to  the  roof,  ready  to  be  fitted 
for  unbelievable  horse-wear  ;  and  making  the  smith's  face  and 
bare  arms  glow  with  a  dusky  red,  like  hot  metal,  as  if  he  were 
the  gnome-king  of  molten  iron.  Then  he  stooped,  and  took  up 
some  coal  dust  in  a  little  shovel,  and  patted  it  down  over  the 
fire,  and  blew  stronger  than  ever,  and  the  sparks  flew  out  with 
the  rage  of  the  fire.  Annie  was  delighted  to  look  at  it ;  but 
there  was  a  certain  fierceness  about  the  whole  affair  that  made 
her  shrink  from  going  nearer  ;  and  she  could  not  help  feeling  a 
little  afraid  of  the  giant  smith  in  particular,  with  his  brawny 
arms  that  twisted  and  tortured  iron  bars  all  day  long, — and  his 
black  angry -looking  face,  that  seemed  for  ever  lighting  with  fire 
and  stiff-necked  metal.  His  very  look  into  the  forge-tire  ought 
to  have  been  enough  to  put  it  out  of  countenance.  Perhaps 
that  was  why  it  was  so  necessary  to  keep  blowing  and  poking  at 
it.  Again  he  stooped,  caught  up  a  great  iron  spoon,  dipped  it 
into  a  tub  of  water,  and  poured  the  spoonful  on  the  fire — a  fresh 
insult,  at  which  it  hissed  and  sputtered,  like  one  of  the  fiery 
flying  serpents  of  which  she  had  read  in  her  Bible — gigantic, 
dragon-like  creatures  to  her  imagination — in  a  ])erfoct  insanity 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  89 

of  fury.  But  not  the  slightest  motion  of  her  hand  lying  in 
Alec's,  indicated  reluctance,  as  he  led  her  into  the  shop,  and 
right  vip  to  the  wrathful  man,  saying  : 

"  Peter  Whaup,  here's  a  lassie  'at's  'maist  frozen  to  deid 
wi'  cauld.  Will  ye  tak'  her  in  and  lat  her  stan'  by  your  ingle- 
neulc,  and  warm  hersel'  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  that.  Alec.  Come  in  by,  my  bairn.  "What  ca' 
they  ye  ?  '_' 

"Annie  Anderson." 

"  Ow,  ay  !  I  ken  a'  aboot  ye  weel  eneuch.  Te  can  lea' 
her  wi'  me,  Alec  ;  I'll  luik  efter  her." 

"  I  maiin  gang  back  to  my  boat,  Annie,"  said  Alec,  then, 
apologetically,  "  but  I'll  come  in  for  ye  again." 

So  Annie  was  left  wdth  the  smith,  of  whom  she  was  not 
the  least  afraid,  now  that  she  had  heard  him  speak.  With  his 
leathern  apron,  caught  up  in  both  hands,  he  swept  a  space  on 
the  front  of  the  elevated  hearth  of  the  forge,  clear  of  cinders 
and  dust,  and  then,  having  wiped  his  hands  on  the  same  apron, 
lifted  the  girl  as  tenderly  as  if  she  had  been  a  baby,  and  set 
her  down  on  this  spot,  about  a  yard  from  the  fire,  on  a  level 
with  it ;  and  there  she  sat,  in  front  of  the  smith,  looking  at 
the  fire  and  the  smith  and  the  work  he  was  about,  in  turns. 
He  asked  her  a  great  many  questions  about  herself  and  the 
Bruces,  and  her  former  life  at  home ;  and  every  question  he 
asked  he  put  in  a  yet  kindlier  voice.  Sometimes  he  would 
stop  in  the  middle  of  blowing,  and  lean  forward  with  his  arm 
on  the  handle  of  the  bellows,  and  look  full  in  the  child's  face 
till  she  had  done  answering  him,  with  eyes  that  shone  in  the 
firelight  as  if  the  tears  would  have  gathered,  but  could  not 
for  the  heat. 

"  Ay !  ay  !  "  he  would  say,  when  she  had  answered  him, 
and  resume  his  blowing,  slowly  and  dreamily.  'For  this  ter- 
rible smith's  heart  was  just  like  his  fire.  He  was  a  dreadful 
fellow  for  fighting  and  quarrelling  when  he  got  a  drop  too 
much,  Avhich  was  rather  too  often,  if  the  truth  must  be  told  ; 
but  to  this  little  woman-child  his  ways  were  as  soft  and  ten- 
der as  a  woman's :  he  could  burn  or  warm. 

"  An'  sae  ye  likit  bein'  at  the  ferm  best  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Ay.     But  ye  see  my  father  deid — " 
■  "  I  ken  that,  my  bairn.     The  Lord  baud  a  grip  o'  ye  !  " 

It  was  not  often  that  Peter  Whaup  indulged  in  a  pious 
ejaculation.  But  this  was  a  genuine  one,  and  may  be  worth 
recording  for  the  sake  of  Annie's  answer : 

"  I'm  thinkin'  he  bauds  a  grip  o'  us  a',  Mr  Whaup." 

And  then  she  told  him  the  story  about  the  rats  and  the 


90  ALEC    FORRES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

cat ;  for  liardly  a  day  passed  just  at  this  time  without  her 
not  merely  recalling  it,  but  reflecting  upon  it.  And  the  smith 
drew  the  back  of  his  hand  across  both  his  eyes  when  she  had 
done,  and  then  pressed  them  both  hard  with  the  thumb  and 
forefinger  of  his  right  hand,  as  if  they  ached,  while  his  other 
arm  went  blowing  away  as  if  nothing  was  the  matter  but 
plenty  of  wind  for  the  forge-fire.  Then  he  pulled  out  the  red- 
laot  gad,  or  iron  bar,  which  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten  ever 
since  Annie  came  in,  and,  standing  with  his  back  to  her  to 
protect  her  from  the  sparks,  put  it  on  his  anvil,  and  began  to 
lay  on  it,  as  if  in  a  fury  ;  while  the  sparks  flew  from  his  blows 
as  if  in  mortal  terror  of  the  angry  man  that  was  pelting  at 
the  luminous  glory  laid  thus  submissive  before  him.  In  fact, 
Peter  was  attempting  to  hammer  out  more  things  than  one, 
upon  that  study  of  his ;  for  in  Scotland  they  call  a  smith's 
anvil  a  study,  so  that  he  ranks  with  other  artists  in  that  re- 
spect. Then,  as  if  anxious  to  hear  the  child  speak  yet  again, 
he  said,  putting  the  iron  once  more  in  the  fire,  and  proceed- 
ing to  rouse  the  wrath  of  the  coals  : 

"  Te  keut  Jeames  Dow,  than  ?  " 

"Ay  ;  weel  that.     I  kent  Dooie  as  weel  as  Eroonie." 

"  Wha  was  Broonie  ?  " 

"  Ow  !  naebody  but  my  ain  coo." 

"  An'  Jeames  was  kin'  to  ye  ?  " 

To  this  question  no  reply  followed ;  but  Peter,  who  stood 
looking  at  her,  saw  her  lips  and  the  muscles  of  her  face 
quivering  an  answer,  which  if  uttered  at  all,  could  come  only 
in  sobs  and  tears. 

But  the  sound  of  approaching  steps  and  voices  restored 
her  equanimity,  and  a  listening  look  gradually  displaced  the 
emotion  on  her  countenance.  Over  the  half-door  of  the  shop 
appeared  two  men,  each  bearing  on  his  shoulder  the  socks 
(shares)  of  two  ploughs,  to  be  sharpened,  or  set.  The  instant 
she  saw  them  she  tumbled  oW  her  perch,  and  before  tl>ey  had 
got  the  door  opened  was  half  way  to  it,  crying,  "Dooie! 
Dooie!  "  Another  instant  and  she  was  lifted  high  in  Dowie's 
arms. 

"  My  little  mistress  !  "  exclaimed  he,  kissing  her.  "  Hoc 
cam  ye  here  ?  " 

"  I'm  safe  eneuch  here,  Dooie  ;  dinna  be  fleyt.  I'll  tell  ye 
a'  aboot  it.     Alec's  in  George  Macwha's  shop  yonner." 

"  And  wha's  Alec  ?  "  asked  Dowie. 

Leaving  thein  now  to  tlieir  private  communications,  I  Avill 
relate,  for  the  sake  of  its  result,  what  passed  between  Jamea 
Dow's  companion  and  the  smith. 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  9] 

"  The  last  time,"  said  the  youth,  "  that  ye  set  my  sock, 
Peter  Whaup,  ye  turned  it  oot  jist  as  saft's  potty,  and  it  wore 
oot  raither  suner." 

"  Hoot !  man,  ye  mistak.  It  wasna  the  sock.  It  was  the 
heid  that  cam'  ahin'  't,  and  kentna  hoo  to  baud  it  afF  o'  the 
stanes." 

"  Ha !  ha  !  ha !  My  heid's  nae  sae  saft's  yer  ain.  It's  no 
rosten  a'  day  like  yours,  till  it's  birstled  {scot^ched)  and  sung 
(singed)  like  a  sheep's.  Jist  gie  me  a  baud  o'  the  taings,  an' 
I  s'  set  my  sock  to  my  ain  min'." 

Peter  gave  up  the  tongs  at  once,  and  the  young  fellow 
proceeded  to  put  the  share  in  the  fire,  and  to  work  the  bel- 
lows. 

"  Te'll  never  mak  ony  thing  o'  't  that  gait,"  said  Peter,  as 
he  took  the  tongs  from  his  hand,  and  altered  the  position  of 
the  share  for  him.  "  Te  wad  hae  'it  black  upo'  ae  side  and 
white  upo'  the  ither.  Noo  ca  (drive)  steady,  an'  dinna  blaw 
the  fire  aff  o'  the  forge." 

But  when  it  came  to  the  anvil  part  of  the  work,  Peter  found 
so  many  faults  with  the  handling  and  the  execution  generally, 
that  at  length  the  lad  threw  down  the  tongs  with  a  laugh  and 
an  oath  intermingled,  saying  : 

"  Te  can  mak'  potty  o'  't  yersel,  than,  Peter. — Te  jist  min' 
me  o'  the  Waesome  Caid." 

"  AVhat's  that  o'  't,  Eory,  man  ?  " 

"  Ow  !  naething  but  a  bit  sang  that  I  cam'  upo'  the  ither 
day  i'  the  neuk  o'  an  auld  newspaper." 

"  Lat's  bear't,"  said  Peter.  "  Sing't,  Eory.  Te're  better 
kent  for  a  guid  sang  than  for  settin'  socks." 

"  I  canna  sing  't,  for  I  dinna  ken  the  tune  o'  't.  I  only 
got  a  glimp'  o'  't,  as  I  tell  ye,  in  an  auld  news." 

"  Weel,  say't,  than.  Te're  as  weel  kent  for  a  guid  memor}^ 
as  a  guid  sang." 

Without  more  preamble,  Eory  repeated,  with  appropriate 
gesture, 

THE  WAESOME  GAEL. 

There  cam  a  man  to  oor  toon-en'. 

An'  a  waesome  carl  was  lie ; 
Wi'  a  snubbert  nose,  an'  a  crookit  mou', 

An'  a  cock  in  his  left  ee. 
And  muckle  he  spied,  and  muckle  he  spak'; 

But  the  burden  o'  his  sang 
Was  aye  the  same,  and  ower  again : 

There's  nane  o'  ye  a'  but's  wrang. 


fl2  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

Te'ro  a'  wrang,  and  a'  wrang, 
And  a'thegither  a'  wrang  ; 
There's  no  a  man  aboot  the  town, 
But's  a'thegither  a'  wrang. 

That's  no  the  gait  to  bate  the  breid, 

Nor  yet  to  brew  the  yill ; 
That's  no  the  gait  to  hand  the  pleuch, 

Nor  yet  to  ca  the  mill. 
That's  no  the  gait  to  milk  the  coo, 

Nor  yet  to  spean  the  calf ; 
Nor  yet  to  fill  the  girnel-kist — 

Ye  kenna  yer  wark  by  half. 
Ye're  a'  wrang,  &c. 

The  minister  was  na  fit  to  pray, 

And  lat  alane  to  preach  ; 
He  nowther  had  the  gift  o'  grace, 

Nor  yet  the  gift  o'  speech. 
He  mind  't  him  o'  Balaam's  ass, 

Wi'  a  differ  ye  may  ken  : 
The  Lord  he  open'd  the  ass's  mou* 

The  minister  open'd  's  ain. 
He's  a'  wrang,  &c. 

The  puir  precentor  cudna  sing, 

He  gruntit  like  a  swine ; 
The  verra  elders  cudna  pass 

The  ladles  till  his  min'. 
And  for  the  rulin'  elder's  grace, 

It  wasna  worth  a  horn ; 
He  didna  half  unciirse  the  meat, 

Nor  pray  for  mair  the  morn. 
He's  a'  wrang,  &c. 

And  aye  he  gied  his  nose  a  thraw. 

And  aye  he  crookit  his  mou' ; 
And  aye  he  cockit  up  his  ee. 

And  said,  "  Tak'  tent  the  noo." 
We  leuch  ahint  oor  loof  {palm),  man, 

And  never  said  him  nay  : 
And  aye  he  spak'— jist  lat  him  spcik  ! 

And  aye  he  said  his  say  : 
Ye're  a'  wrang,  &c. 

Quo'  oor  guidman  :  "  The  crater's  daft ; 

But  wow  !  he  has  the  claik ; 
Lat's  see  gin  he  can  turn  a  ban' 

Or  only  luik  and  craik. 
It's  true  wo  inaunna  lippen  till  him — 

He's  fairly  cr;ick  wi'  pride  ; 
But  he  maun  live,  wo  canna  kill  him  — 

Gin  he  can  work,  he  s'  bide." 
He  was  a'  wrang,  &c. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  93 

"  It's  true  it's  but  a  laddie's  turn, 

But  we'll  begin  wi'  a  sma'  thing ; 
There's  a'  thae  weyds  to  gather  an'  burn — 

An'  he's  the  man  for  a'  thing." 
We  gaed  oor  wa's,  and  loot  him  be, 

To  do  jist  as  he  niicht ; 
We  think  to  hear  uae  mair  o'  him, 

Till  we  come  hame  at  nicht ; 
But  we're  a'  wraug,  &c. 

For,  losh  !  or  it  was  denner-time. 

The  lift  {finnament)  was  in  a  low; 
The  reek  rase  up,  as  it  had  been 

Frae  Sodom-flames,  I  vow. 
We  ran  like  mad  ;  but  corn  and  byre 

War  blazin' — wae's  the  fell! — 
As  gin  the  deil  had  broucht  the  fire, 

To  mak'  anither  hell. 
'Twas  a'  wrang,  &c. 

And  by  the  blaze  the  carl  stud, 
Wi's  ban's  aneatli  his  tails ; 
And  aye  he  said — "  I  tauld  ye  sae. 

An'  ye're  to  blame  yersels. 
It's  a'  your  wife  {blame),  for  ye're  a'  wrang — 

Te'll  maybe  own't  at  last : 
What  gart  ye  burn  thae  deevilich  weyds, 
Whan  the  win'  blew  frae  the  wast .' 
Ye're  a'  wrang,  and  a'  wrang, 
And  a'thcgither  a'  wrang  ; 
There's  no  a  man  in  a'  the  warl' 
But's  a'thegither  a'  wrang." 

Before  the  recitation  was  over,  which  was  performed  with 
considerable  spirit  and  truth,  Annie  and  Dowie  were  listening 
attentively,  along  with  Alec,  who  had  returned  to  take  Annie 
back,  and  who  nov/ joined  loudly  in  the  applause  which  followed 
the  conclusion  of  the  verses. 

"  Faith,  that  was  a  chield  to  hand  oot  ower  frae,"  said  Alec 
to  Eory.  "And  ye  said  the  sang  week  Ye  sud  learn  to  sing't 
though." 

"  Maybe  I  may,  some  day ;  gin  I  cud  only  get  a  grainie 
saut  to  pit  upo'  the  tail  o'  the  bird  that  kens  the  tune  o'  't. 
What  ca'  they  you,  noo  ?  " 

"  Alec  Forbes,"  answered  the  owner  of  the  name, 

"Ay,"  interposed  Annie,  addressing  herself  to  Dowie,  who 
still  held  her  in  his  arms  ;  "  this  is  Alec,  that  I  tell't  ye  aboot. 
He's  richt  guid  to  me.  Alec,  here's  Dooie,  'at  I  like  better 
nor  onybody  i'  the  warl'." 

And  she  turned  and  kissed  the  bronzed  face,  which  was  a 


94  ALEC  FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

clean  face,  notwitlistanding  the  contrary  appearance  given  to  it 
by  a  beard  of  three  days'  growth,  which  Annie's  kiss  was  too 
full  of  love  to  mind. 

Annie  would  have  been  yet  more  ready  to  tell  Dowie  and 
Alec  each  who  the  other  was,  had  she  not  been  occupied  in  her 
OW'U  mind  with  a  discovery  she  had  made.  For  had  not  those 
verses  given  evident  delight  to  the  company — Alec  ainong  the 
rest  ?  Had  he  not  applauded  loudest  of  all  ? — Was  there  not 
here  something  she  could  do,  and  so  contribute  to  the  delight 
of  the  workmen.  Alec  and  Willie,  and  thus  have  her  part  in  the 
boat  growing  beneath  their  hands  ?  She  would  then  be  no 
longer  a  tolerated  beliolder,  indebted  to  their  charity  for  per- 
mission to;«njoy  their  society,  but  a  contributing  member  of  the 
working  community — if  not  working  herself,  yet  upholding 
those  that  wrought.  The  germ  of  all  this  found  itself  in  her  mind 
that  moment,  and  she  resolved  before  next  night  to  be  able  to 
emulate  liory. 

Dowie  carried  her  home  in  his  arms,  and  on  the  "way  she 
told  him  all  about  the  kindness  of  Alec  and  his  mother.  He 
asked  her  many  questions  about  the  Bruces ;  but  her  patient 
nature,  and  the  instinctive  feeling  that  it  would  make  Dowie 
unhappy,  withheld  her  from  representing  the  discomforts  of  her 
position  in  strong  colours.  Dowie,  however,  had  his  own 
thoughts  on  the  matter. 

"  Hoo  are  ye  the  nicht,  Mr  Dow  ?  "  said  Eobert,  who  treated 
him  with  oily  respect,  because  he  was  not  only  acquainted  with 
all  Annie's  affairs,  but  was  a  kind  of  natural,  if  not  legal,  guard- 
ian of  her  and  her  property  "  And  whaur  did  ye  fa'  in  wi' 
this  stray  lammie  o'  oors  r  " 

"  She's  been  wi'  me  this  lang  time,"  answ^ered  Dow,  declin- 
ing, with  Scotch  instinct,  to  give  an  answer,  before  he  under- 
stood all  the  drift  of  the  question.  A  Scotchman  would  always 
like  the  last  question  first. 

"  She's  some  ill  for  rinnin'  oot,"  said  Bruce,  with  soft  words 
addressed  to  Dow,  and  a  cutting  look  flung  at  Annie,  "  withoot 
speirin'  leave,  and  we  dinna  ken  whaur  she  gangs  ;  and  that's  no 
richt  for  lass-bairns." 

"  Never  ye  min'  her,  Mr  Bruce,"  replied  Dow.  "  I  ken  her 
better  nor  you,  no  meanin'  ony  offence,  seein'  she  was  i'  my 
airms  afore  she  was  a  Aveck  aiild.  Lat  her  gang  wliaur  she 
likes,  and  gin  she  does  what  she  sudna  do,  I'll  tak  a'  the  wyte 
o'  't." 

Now  there  was  no  great  anxiety  about  Annie's  welfare  in 
the  mind  of  Mr  or  Mrs  Bruce.  The  shop  and  their  own 
children,  chiefly  the  former    occupied  their  thoughts,  and  the 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  95 

less  trouble  tbey  had  from  the  presence  of  Annie,  the  better 
pleased  they  were — always  provided  they  could  escape  the  cen- 
sure of  neglect.  Hence  it  came  that  Annie's  absences  were 
but  little  inquired  into.  All  the  attention  they  did  show  her, 
seemed  to  them  to  be  of  free  grace  and  to  the  credit  of  their 
charity. 

But  Bruce  did  not  like  the  influence  that  James  Dow 
had  with  her ;  and  before  they  retired  for  the  night,  he  had 
another  lecture  ready  for  Annie. 

"Annie,"  he  said,  "it's  no  becomin'  for  ane  i'  your  station 
to  be  sae  familiar.  Te'll  be  a  yoiing  leddy  some  day,  and  it's 
no  richt  to  tak  up  wi'  servan's.  There's  Jeames  Doo,  jist  a. 
labourin'  man,  and  aneath  your  station  a'thegether,  and  he 
taks  ye  up  in's  airr^s,  as  gin  ye  war  a  bairn  o'  's  ain.  It's  no 
proaper." 

"  I  like  -Tamie  Doo  better  nor  onybody  i'  the  haill  warl," 
said  Annie,  "  excep' — " 

Here  she  stopped  short.  She  would  not  expose  her  heart 
to  the  gaze  of  that  man. 

"  Excep'  wha  ?  "  urged  Brace. 

"  I'm  no  gaein  to  say,"  returned  Annie  firmly. 

"Te're  a  camstairie  (perverse)  lassie,"  said  Bruce,  pushing 
her  away  with  a  forceful  acidity  in  the  combination  of  tone 
and  push. 

She  walked  off  to  bed,  caring  nothing  for  his  rebuke.  Por 
since  Alec's  kindness  had  opened  to  her  a  well  of  the  water 
of  life,  she  had  almost  ceased  to  suffer  from  the  ungeniality 
of  her  guardians.  She  forgot  them  as  soon  as  she  was  out  of 
their  sight.  And  certainly  they  were  nicer  to  forget  than  to 
remember. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


As  soon  as  she  "was  alone  in  her  room  she  drew  from  her 
pocket  a  parcel  containing  something  which  Dowie  had  bought 
for  her  on  their  way  home.  When  undone  it  revealed  two  or 
three  tallow  candles,  a  precious  present  in  view  of  her  hopes. 
But  how  should  she  get  a  light— for  this  was  long  before 
lucifer  matches  had  risen  even  upon  the  horizon  of  Glamer- 
ton  ?     There  was  but  one  way. 

She  waited,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  in  the  cold  and 


96  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

darkness,  until  every  sound  in  the  house  had  ceased.  Then 
she  stepped  cautiously  down  the  old  stair,  which  would  crack 
now  and  then,  use  what  care  and  gentleness  she  might. 

It  was  the  custom  in  all  the  houses  of  Glamerton  to  rest 
the  fire ;  that  is,  to  keep  it  gently  alive  all  night  by  the  help 
of  a  truff,  or  sod  cut  from  the  tojD  of  a  peat-moss — a  coarse 
peat  in  fact,  more  loose  and  porous  than  the  peat  proper — 
which  they  laid  close  down  upon  the  fire,  destroying  almost 
all  remaining  draught  by  means  of  coal-dust.  To  this  sealed 
fountain  of  light  the  little  maiden  was  creeping  through  the 
dark  house,  with  one  of  her  cliiJS  in  her  hand — the  pitcher 
with  which  she  was  about  to  draw  from  the  fountain. 

And  a  pretty  study  she  would  have  made  for  any  child- 
loving  artist,  when,  with  her  face  close  to  the  grate,  her  mouth 
puckered  up  to  do  duty  as  the  nozzle  of  a  pair  of  bellows,  one 
hand  holding  a  twisted  piece  of  paper  between  the  bars,  and 
the  other  buttressing  the  whole  position  from  the  floor,  she 
blew  at  the  live  but  reluctant  fire,  a  glow  spreading  at  each 
breath  over  her  face,  and  then  fading  as  the  breath  ceased,  till 
at  last  the  paper  caught,  and  lighting  it  up  from  Avithout 
with  flame,  and  from  within  with  the  shine  of  success,  made 
the  lovely  child-countenance  like  the  face  of  one  that  has 
found  the  truth  after  the  search  of  weary  days. 

Thus  she  lighted  her  candle,  and  again  with  careful  steps 
she  made  her  way  to  her  own  room.  Setting  the  candle  in  a 
hole  in  the  floor,  left  by  the  departure  of  a  resinous  knot,  she 
opened  her  box,  in  which  lay  the  few  books  her  aunt  had 
thrown  into  it  when  she  left  her  old  home.  She  had  not  yet 
learned  to  cars  much  about  books  ;  but  one  of  these  had  now 
become  precious  in  her  eyes,  because  she  knew  it  contained 
poems  that  her  father  had  been  fond  of  reading.  She  soon 
found  it — a  volume  by  some  Scotch  poet  of  little  fame,  whose 
inward  commotions  had  generated  their  own  alleviation  in  the 
harmonies  of  ordered  words  in  which  they  embodied  them- 
selves. In  it  Annie  searched  for  something  to  learn  before 
the  following  night,  and  found  a  ballad  tlie  look  of  which  she 
liked,  and  which  she  very  soon  remembered  as  one  she  had 
heard  her  father  read.  It  was  very  cold  worlc  to  learn  it  at 
midnight,  in  winter,  and  in  a  garret  too ;  but  so  intent  was 
she,  tiiat  before  she  went  to  bed,  she  had  learned  four  or  five 
verses  so  tlioroughly  that  she  could  repeat  them  without 
thinking  of  what  came  next,  and  these  she  kept  saying  over 
and  over  again  even  in  her  dreams. 

As  soon  as  she  woke  in  the  dark  morning  she  put  her 
hand  under  her  pillow  to  feel  the  precious  volume,  which  she 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  97 

hoped  would  be  the  bond  to  bind  her  yet  more  closely  to  the 
boat  and  its  builders.  She  took  it  to  school  in  her  pocket, 
learning  the  whole  way  as  she  went,  and  taking  a  roundabout 
road  that  her  cousins  might  not  interrupt  her.  She  kept  re- 
peating and  peeping  every  possible  moment  during  school 
hours,  and  then  all  the  way  home  again.  So  that  by  the  time 
she  had  had  her  dinner,  and  the  gauzy  twilight  had  thickened 
to  the  "  blanket  of  the  dark,"  she  felt  quite  ready  to  carry  her 
offering  of  ''  the  song  that  lightens  toil,"  to  George  Macwha's 
workshop. 

How  clever  they  must  be,  she  thought,  as  she  went  along, 
to  make  such  a  beautiful  thing  as  the  boat  was  now  growing  to  ! 
And  she  felt  in  her  heart  a  kind  of  love  for  the  look  of  living 
grace  that  the  little  craft  already  wore.  Indeed  before  it  was 
finished  she  had  learned  to  regard  it  with  a  feeling  of  mingled 
awe,  affection,  and  admiration,  and  the  little  boat  had  made  for 
itself  a  place  in  her  brain. 

"When  she  entered,  she  found  the  two  boys  already  in  busy 
talk ;  and  without  interrupting  them  by  a  word,  she  took  her 
place  on  the  heap  of  shavings  which  had  remained  undisturbed 
since  last  night.  After  the  immediate  consultation  was  over, 
and  the  young  carpenters  had  settled  to  their  work — not  know- 
ing what  introduction  to  give  to  her  offering,  she  produced  it 
without  any  at  all.  The  boys  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it 
at  first,  hearing  something  come  all  at  once  from  Auuie's  lips 
which  was  neither  question  nor  remark,  and  broke  upon  the 
silence  like  an  alien  sound.  But  they  said  nothing — only  gave 
a  glance  at  each  other  and  at  her,  and  settled  down  to  listen  and 
to  work.  !Xor  did  they  speak  one  word  until  she  had  finished 
the  ballad. 

"  THE  LAST  WOOING," 

said  Annie,  all  at  once,  and  went  on : 

"  0  lat  me  in,  my  bonny  lass  ! 
It's  a  lang  road  ower  the  hill ; 
And  the  flauchterin'  snaw  began  to  fa', 
As  I  cam  by  the  miU." 

"  This  is  nae  ehange-hoose,  John  Munro, 

And  ye  needna  come  nae  mair : 
Ye  crookit  yer  mou',  and  lichtlied  me, 
Last  Wednesday,  at  the  fair." 

"  I  lichtlied  ye  !  "  "  Aboon  the  glass," 

"  Foul-fa'  the  ill-faured  mouth 
That  made  the  leeiu'  word  to  pass, 
By  ro^vin'  't  {icrajiying)  m  the  truth. 
7 


98  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

The  fac'  was  this :  I  dochtna  bide 

To  hear  yer  bonnie  name, 
Whaur  muckle  mous  war  opened  wide 

Wi'  lawless  mirth  and  shame. 

And  a'  I  said  was  :  '  Hoot  !  lat  sit ; 

She's  but  a  bairn,  the  lass.' 
It  turned  the  spait  {food)  o'  words  a  bit, 

And  loot  yer  fair  name  pass." 

"Thank  ye  for  naething,  John  Munro  ! 

My  name  can  gang  or  bide  ; 
It's  no  a  sough  o'  drucken  words 
Wad  turn  my  held  aside." 

"  0  Elsie,  lassie  o'  my  ain  I 

The  drift  is  cauld  and  Strang  ; 
0  tak  me  in  ae  hour,  and  syne 
I'll  gather  me  and  gang." 

"  Ye're  guid  at  fleechin'  (uihecdling),  Jock  Munro, 
For  ye  heedna  fause  and  true  : 
Gang  in  to  Katie  at  the  Mill, 
She  lo'es  sic  like  as  you." 

He  turned  his  fit ;  he  spak  nae  mair. 

The  lift  was  like  to  fa' ; 
And  Elsie's  heart  grew  grit  and  sair  [big  and  sore). 

At  sicht  o'  the  drivin'  snaw. 

She  laid  her  doun,  but  no  to  sleep. 

For  her  verra  heart  was  cauld ; 
And  the  sheets  war  like  a  frozen  heap 

0'  snaw  aboot  her  faul'd. 

She  rase  fu'  ear'.     And  a'  theroot 

Was  ae  braid  windin'  sheet ; 
At  the  door-sill,  or  winnock-lug  {wwdow-corner), 

Was  never  a  mark  o'  feet. 

She  crap  a'  day  aboot  the  hoose, 

Slow-tittit  and  hcrt-sair, 
Aye  keckin'  oot  like  a  frichtit  moose, — 

But  Johnnie  cam  nae  mair ! 

When  saft  the  thow  bogud  to  melt 

Awa'  the  ghaistly  snaw, 
Her  hert  was  safter  nor  the  thow, 

Her  pride  had  ta'en  a  fa.' 

And  she  oot  owor  the  liill  wad  gang, 
Whaur  the  sun  was  blinkin'  bonnie, 

To  see  his  auld  minnie  {mother)  in  her  cot. 
And  speir  aboot  her  Johnnie. 


AJ.EC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEX.  99 

But  as  alang  the  hill  she  gaed. 

Through  snaw  and  slush  and  weet, 
She  stoppit  wi'  a  chokiu'  cry — 

*Twas  Johnnie  at  her  feet. 

His  heid  was  smoored  aneath  the  snaw, 

But  his  breist  was  maistly  bare ; 
And  'twixt  his  breist  and  his  richt  hau', 

He  claisp't  a  lock  o'  hair. 

'Twas  gowden  hair :  she  kent  it  weel. 

Alack,  the  sobs  and  sighs  ! 
The  warm  win'  blew,  the  laverock  flew, 

But  Johnnie  wadna  rise. 

The  spring  cam  ower  the  wastlin  {westward)  hill, 

And  the  frost  it  fled  awa' ; 
And  the  green  grass  luikit  smilin'  up, 

Nane  the  waur  for  a'  the  snaw. 

And  saft  it  grew  on  Johnnie's  grave, 

"V\Tiaur  deep  the  sunshine  lay  ; 
But,  lang  or  that,  on  Elsie's  heid 

The  gowden  hair  was  gray. 

George  Macwha,  who  was  at  vrork  in  the  otter  end  of  the 
shop  when  she  began,  had  drawn  near,  chisel  in  hand,  and 
joined  the  listeners. 

"  Weel  dune,  Annie !  "  exclaimed  he,  as  soon  as  she  had 
finished — feeling  very  shy  and  awkward,  now  that  her  experi- 
ment had  been  made.  But  she  had  not  long  to  wait  for  the 
result. 

"Say't  ower  again,  Annie,"  said  Alec,  after  a  moment's 
pause. 

Could  she  have  wished  for  more  ? 

She  did  say  it  over  again. 

"  Eh,  Annie !  that's  rale  bonnie.  "Whaur  did  ye  get  it  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  In  an  auld  buikie  o'  my  father's,"  answered  she. 

"  Is  there  ony  mair  in't  like  it  ?  " 

"  Ay,  lots." 

"  Jist  learn  anither,  will  ye,  afore  the  morn's  nicht  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  that.  Alec." 

"  Dinna  ye  like  it,  Curly  ?  "  asked  Alec,  for  Curly  had 
said  nothing. 

"  Ay,  fegs  !  (faitJi)  "  was  Curlj^'s  emphatic  and  uncritical 
reply. 

Annie  therefore  learned  and  repeated  a  few  more,  which, 
if  not  received  with  equal  satisfaction,  yet   gave  sufiicient 


100  ALEC   rOUBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

pleasure  to  the  listeners.  They  often,  however,  returned  to 
the  first,  demanding  it  over  and  over  again,  till  at  length  they 
knew  it  as  well  as  she. 

But  a  check  was  given  for  a  while  to  these  forenight 
meetings. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


A  RAPID  thaw  set  in,  and  up  through  the  vanishing  white- 
ness dawned  the  dark  colours  of  the  wintry  landscape.  For 
a  day  or  two  the  soft  wet  snow  lay  mixed  with  water  over 
all  the  road.  After  that  came  mire  and  dirt.  But  it  was 
still  so  far  off  spring,  that  nobody  cared  to  be  reminded  of  it  yet. 
So  when,  after  the  snow  had  vanished,  a  hard  black  frost  set 
in,  it  was  welcomed  by  the  schoolboys  at  least,  whatever  the 
old  people  and  the  poor  people,  and  especially  those  who  were 
both  old  and  poor,  may  have  thought  of  the  change.  Under 
the  binding  power  of  this  frost,  the  surface  of  the  slow-flowing 
Glamour  and  of  the  swifter  Wan- Water,  were  once  more 
chilled  and  stiffened  to  ice,  which  every  day  grew  thicker  and 
stronger.  And  now,  there  being  no  coverlet  of  snow  upon  it, 
the  boys  came  out  in  troops,  in  their  iron-shod  shoes  and 
their  clumsy  skates,  to  skim  along  those  floors  of  delight  that 
the  winter  had  laid  for  them.  To  the  fishes  the  ice  was  a 
Avarm  blanket  cast  over  them  to  keep  them  from  the  frost.  But 
they  must  have  been  dismayed  at  the  dim  rush  of  so  many 
huge  forms  above  them,  as  if  another  river  with  other  and 
awful  fishes  had  buried  theirs.  Alec  and  AVillie  left  their 
boat — almost  for  a  time  forgot  it — repaired  their  skates,  joined 
their  school-fellows,  and  shot  along  the  solid  water  with  the 
banks  flying  ])ast  them.  It  was  strange  to  see  the  banks  thus 
from  the  middle  surface  of  the  water.  All  was  strange  about 
them ;  and  the  delight  of  the  strangeness  increased  the  de- 
light of  tlie  motion,  and  sent  the  blood  through  their  veins 
swift  as  their  flight  along  the  frozen  rivers. 

Tor  many  afternoons  and  into  the  early  nights,  Alec  and 
Curly  held  on  the  joyful  s})ort,  and  Annie  was  for  the  time 
left  lonely.  But  she  was  neither  disconsolate  nor  idle.  The 
boat  was  a  sure  pledge  for  them.  To  the  boat  and  her  they 
must  return.  She  went  to  the  shop  still,  now  and  then,  to 
see  George  Macwha,  who,  of  an  age  beyond  the  seduction  of 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOVVGLEN.  101 

ice  and  skates,  kept  on  steadily  at , his' wor*k.  ^  Tp  "b,im,sli3 
would  repeat  a  ballad  or  two,  at  his  rsq'^est^  aid  Jheii  g.p. 
home  to  increase  her  stock.  This  was  'rioVv'  a  work  of  some 
difficulty,  for  her  provision  of  candles  was  exhausted,  and  she 
had  no  money  with  which  to  buy  more.  The  last  candle  had 
come  to  a  tragical  end.  For,  hearing  steps  approaching  her 
room  one  morning,  before  she  had  put  it  away  in  its  usual 
safety  in  her  box,  she  hastily  poked  it  into  one  of  the  holes 
in  the  floor  and  forgot  it.  When  she  sought  it  at  night,  it 
was  gone.  Her  first  dread  w^as  that  she  had  been  found  out ; 
but  hearing  nothing  of  it,  she  concluded  at  last  that  her 
enemies  the  rottans  had  carried  it  ofl^"  and  devoured  it. 
.  .  "Deil  choke  them  upo'  the  wick  o'  't!"  exclaimed  Curly, 
when  she  told  him  the  next  day,  seeking  a  partner  in  her 
grief. 

But  a  greater  difiiculty  had  to  be  encountered.  It  was  not 
long  before  she  had  exhausted  her  book,  from  which  she  had 
chosen  the  right  poems  by  insight,  wonderfully  avoiding  by 
instinct  the  unsuitable,  without  knowing  why,  and  repelled  by 
the  mere  tone. 

She  thought  day  and  night  where  additional  j9«5mZwto  might 
be  procured,  and  at  last  came  to  the  resolution  of  applying  to 
jMr  Cowie  the  clergyman.  AVithout  consulting  any  one,  she 
knocked  on  an  afternoon  at  j\Ir  Cowie' s  door. 

"  Cud  I  see  the  minister  ?  "  she  said  to  the  maid. 
"  I  dinna  ken.    "What  do  you  want  ?  "  was  the  maid's  reply. 
But  Annie  was  Scotch  too,  and  perhaps  perceived  that  she 
would  have  but  a  small  chance  of  being  admitted  into  the  min- 
ister's presence  if  she  communicated  the  object  of  her  request 
to  the  servant.     So  she  only  replied, 

"  I  want  to  see  himsel',  gin  ye  please." 
"  Weel,  come  in,  and  I'll  tell  him.     What's  yer  name  ?  " 
"  Annie  Anderson." 
"  Whaur  do  ye  bide  ?  " 
"  At  Mr  Bruce's,  i'  the  "Wast  Wynd." 
The  maid  went,  and  presently  returning  with  the  message 
that  she  was  to  "  gang  up  the  stair,"  conducted  her  to  the 
study  where  the  minister  sat — a  room,  to  Annie's  amazement, 
filled  with  books  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  every  wall. 
Mr  Cowie  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  and  said, 

"  Well,  my  little  maiden,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 
"  Please,  sir,  wad  ye  len'  me  a  sang-buik  ?  " 
"  A    psalm-book  ?  "    said   the   minister,   hesitatingly,  sup- 
posing he  had  not  heard  aright,  and  yet  doubting  if  this  could 
be  the  correction  of  his  auricular  blunder. 


-1(),2  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

"Na,  sir;  I  hae  a  psalm-buik  at  hame.     It's  a  sang-buik 
,  i'(\l),f  ;I.waJt,  fciie  leu'  o,'."'    ^ 

Now  the  minister  Nvas  one  of  an  old  scliool — a  very  worthy 
kind-hearted  man,  with  nothing  of  what  has  been  called  7'eli' 
(jious  ea-jjerience.  But  he  knew  what  some  of  his  Lord's  words 
meant,  and  amongst  them  certain  words  about  little  children. 
He  had  a  feeling  likewise,  of  more  instinctive  origin,  that  to  be 
kind  to  little  children  was  an  important  branch  of  his  office. 
So  he  drew  Annie  close  to  him,  as  he  sat  in  his  easy-chair,  laid 
his  plump  cheek  against  her  thin  white  one,  and  said  in  the 
gentlest  way : 

"  And  what  do  you  want  a  song-book  for,  dawtie  ?  " 
"  To  learn  bonnie  sangs  oot  o',  sir.    Dinna  ye  think  they're 
the  bonniest  things  in  a'  the  warl', — sangs,  sir  V  " 

For  Annie  had  by  this  time  learned  to  love  ballad-verse  above 
everything  but  Alec  and  Dowie. 

"  And  what  kind  o'  sangs  do  ye  like  ?  "  the  clergyman,  asked, 
instead  of  replying. 

"  I  like  them  best  that  gar  ye  greit,  sir." 

At  every  answer,  she  looked  up  in  his  face  with  her  open 

clear  blue  eyes.      And  the  minister  began  to   love  her  not 

merely  because  she  was  a  child,  but  because  she  was  this  child. 

"  Do  ye  sing  them  ?  "  he  asl?ed,  after  a  little  pause  of  pleased 

gazing  into  the  face  of  the  child. 

"  Na,  na ;  I  only  say  them.     I  dinna  ken  the  tunes  o'  them." 
"  And  do  you  say  them  to  ]Mr  Bruce  ?  " 
"  Mr  Bruce,  sir !     Mr  Bruce  wad  say  I  was  daft.     I  wadna 
say  a  sang  to  him,  sir,  for — for — for  a'  the  sweeties  i'  the  shop." 
"  Well,  who  do  you  say  them  to  ?  " 

"  To  Alec  Forbes  and  Willie  Macwha.  They're  biggin  a 
boat,  sir  ;  and  they  like  to  hae  me  by  them,  as  they  big,  to  say 
sangs  to  them.     And  I  like  it  richt  week" 

"  It'll  be  a  lucky  boat,  surely,"  said  the  minister,  "  to  rise 
to  the  sound  of  rhyme,  like  some  old  Norse  war-ship." 

"  I  dinna  ken,  sir,"  said  Aniiie,  who  certainly  did  not  know 
what  he  meant. 

Now  the  minister's  acquamtance  with  any  but  the  classic 
poets  was  very  small  indeed  ;  so  tliat,  when  he  got  U])  and 
stood  before  his  book-shelves,  with  the  design  of  trying  what  he 
could  do  for  her,  he  could  think  of  nobody  but  Milton. 

So  he  brought  the  Paradise  Lost  from  its  place,  wliere  it 
had  not  been  disturbed  for  years,  and  phu'ing  it  before  her  on 
the  table,  for  it  was  a  quarto  copy,  ask(>d  lier  if  that  woidd  do. 
Slie  opened  It  slowly  and  gently,  witli  a  reverential  circum- 
sp  rtion,  and  for  the  space  of  about  five  minutes,  remained 


AI.EC   FORBES    OF    HOAVGLEN.  103 

silent  over  it,  turning  leaves,  and  tasting,  and  turning,  and 
tasting  again.  At  length,  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  book, 
she  turned  to  Mr  Cowie,  who  was  watching  with  much  in- 
terest and  a  little  anxiety  the  result  of  the  experiment,  and 
said  gently  and  sorrowfully  : 

"  I  dinna  think  this  is  the  richt  bulk  for  me,  sir.  There's 
nae  sang  in't  that  I  can  iln'  oot.  It  gangs  a'  straucht  on,  and 
never  turns  or  halts  a  bit.  Xoo  ye  see,  sir,  a  sang  aye  turns 
roun',  and  begins  again,  and  afore  lang  it  comes  fairly  to  an  en', 
jist  like  a  day,  sir,  whan  we  gang  to  oor  beds  an'  fa'  asleep. 
But  this  bauds  on  and  on,  and  there's  no  end  till't  ava  (at  all). 
It's  jist  like  the  sun  that  '  never  tires  nor  stops  to  rest.'  " 

"' But  round  the  world  he  shines,'"  said  the  clergyman, 
completing  the  quotation,  right  good-humouredly,  though  he 
was  somewhat  bewildered  ;  for  he  had  begun  to  fall  a-marvel- 
ling  at  the  little  dingy  maiden,  with  the  untidy  hair  and  dirty 
frock,  who  had  thoughts  of  her  own,  and  would  not  concede 
the  faculty  of  song  to  the  greatest  of  epic  poets. 

Doubtless  if  he  had  tried  her  with  some  of  the  short  poems 
at  the  end  of  the  Paradise  Regained,  which  I  doubt  if  he  had 
ever  even  read,  she  would  at  least  have  allowed  that  they  were 
not  devoid  of  song.  But  it  was  better  perhaps  that  she  should 
be  left  free  to  follow  her  own  instincts.  The  true  teacher  is 
the  one  who  is  able  to  guide  those  instincts,  strengthen  them 
with  authority,  and  illuminate  them  with  revelation  of  their 
own  fundamental  truth.  The  best  this  good  minister  could  do 
was  not  to  interfere  ^vith  them.  He  was  so  anxious  to  help 
her,  however,  that,  partly  to  gain  some  minutes  for  reflec- 
tion, partly  to  get  the  assistance  of  his  daughters,  he  took 
her  by  the  hand,  and  led  her  to  the  dining-room,  where  tea 
was  laid  for  himself  and  his  two  grown-up  girls.  She  went 
without  a  thought  of  question  or  a  feeling  of  doubt ;  for 
however  capable  she  was  of  ordering  her  own  wa}',  nothing 
delighted  her  more  than  blind  submission,  wherever  she  felt 
justified  in  yielding  it.  It  was  a  profound  pleasure  to  her  not 
to  know  what  was  coming  next,  pronded  some  one  whom  she 
loved  did.  So  she  sat  down  to  tea  with  the  perfect  composure 
of  submission  to  a  superior  will.  It  never  occurred  to  her  that 
she  had  no  right  to  be  there  ;  for  had  not  the  minister  himself 
led  her  there  ?  And  his  daughters  were  very  kind  and  friend- 
ly. In  the  course  of  the  meal,  Mr  Cowie  having  told  them  the 
difficulty  he  was  in,  they  said  that  perhaps  they  might  be  able 
to  find  what  she  wanted,  or  something  that  might  take  the 
place  of  it ;  and  after  tea,  one  of  them  brought  two  volumes  of 
ballads  of  all  sorts,  some  old,  some  new,  some  Scotch,  some 


104  ALEC    FOKBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

English,  and  put  them  into  Annie's  hands,  asking  her  if  that 
book  would  do.  The  child  eagerly  opened  one  of  the  volumes, 
and  glanced  at  a  page :  It  sparkled  with  the  right  ore  of 
ballad-words.  The  Red,  the  colour  always  of  delight,  grew  in 
her  face.  She  closed  the  book  as  if  she  could  not  trust  herself 
to  look  at  it  while  others  were  looking  at  her,  and  said  with  a 
sigh  : 

"  Eh,  mem  !     Te  wonna  lippen  them  laith  to  me  ?  " 

"  Tes,  I  will,"  said  Miss  Covvie.  "  I  am  sure  you  will  take 
care  of  them." 

"  That — I — will"  returned  Annie,  with  an  honesty  and  de- 
termination of  purpose  that  made  a  great  impression  upon  Mr 
Cowie  especially.  And  she  ran  home  with  a  feeling  of  richness 
of  possession  such  as  she  had  never  before  esperieuced. 

Her  first  business  was  to  scamper  up  to  her  room,  and 
hide  the  precious  treasures  in  her  Mst,  there  to  wait  all  night, 
like  the  buried  dead,  for  the  coming  morning. 

When  she  confessed  to  Mr  Bruce  that  she  had  had  tea  with 
the  minister,  he  held  up  his  hands  in  the  manner  which  com- 
monly expresses  amazement ;  but  what  the  peculiar  character 
or  ground  of  the  amazement  might  be  remained  entirely  un- 
revealed,  for  he  said  not  a  word  to  elucidate  the  gesture. 

The  next  time  Annie  went  to  see  the  minister  it  was  on  a 
very  different  quest  from  the  loan  of  a  song-book. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


One  afternoon,  as  Alec  went  home  to  dinner,  he  was  con- 
siderably surprised  to  find  Mr  Malison  leaning  on  one  of  the 
rails  of  the  foot-bridge  over  the  Glamour,  looking  down  upon 
its  frozen  surface.  There  was  nothing  supernatural  or  alarm- 
ing in  this,  seeing  that,  after  scliool  was  over.  Alec  had  run  up 
the  town  to  the  saddler's,  to  get  a  new  strap  for  one  of  his 
skates.  What  made  the  fact  surprising  was,  that  the  scholars 
so  seldom  encountered  the  master  anywhere  except  in  school. 
Alec  thought  to  pass,  but  tlio  laomcnt  his  foot  was  on  the 
bridge  the  master  lifted  himself  up,  and  faced  round. 

"  Well,  Alec,"  he  said,  "  where  have  i/oit  been  ?  " 

"  To  get  a  new  strap  for  my  skatcher,"  answered  Alec 

"  You're  fond  of  skating — are  you,  Alec  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 


105 


.   "  I  used  to  be  when  I  was  a  boy.     Have  you  had  your 
dinner  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  I  suppose  your  mother  has  not  dined,  either  ?  " 

"  She  never  does  till  I  go  home,  sir." 

"  Then  I  won't  intrude  upon  her.  I  did  mean  to  call  this 
afternoon." 

"  She  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you,  sir.  Come  and  take  a 
share  of  what  there  is." 

"  I  think  I  had  better  not.  Alec." 

"  Do,  sir.     I  am  sure  she  will  make  you  welcome." 

Mr  Malison  hesitated.  Alec  pressed  him.  He  yielded  ; 
and  they  went  along  the  road  together. 

I  shall  not  have  to  show  much  moi'e  than  half  of  Mr  Mali- 
son's life — the  school  half,  which,  both  inwardly  and  outward- 
ly, was  very  diiferent  from  the  other.  The  moment  he  was  out 
of  the  school,  the  moment,  that  is,  that  he  ceased  for  the  day 
to  be  responsible  for  the  moral  and  intellectual  condition  of  his 
turbulent  subjects,  the  whole  character- — certainly  the  whole 
deportment — of  the  man  changed.  He  was  now  as  meek  and 
gentle  in  speech  and  behaviour  as  any  mother  could  have  de- 
sired. 

JSTor  was  the  change  a  hypocritical  one.  The  master  never 
interfered,  or  only  upon  the  rarest  occasions  when  pressure 
from  without  was  brought  to  bear  upon  him,  as  in  the  case  of 
Juno,  with  what  the  boys  did  out  of  school.  He  was  glad 
enough  to  accept  utter  irresponsibility  for  that  portion  of  his 
time  ;  so  that  between  the  two  parts  of  the  day,  as  they  passed 
through  the  life  of  the  master,  there  was  almost  as  little  con- 
nection as  between  the  waking  and  sleeping  hours  of  a  som- 
nambulist. 

But,  as  he  leaned  over  the  rail  of  the  bridge,  whither  a  rare 
impulse  to  movement  had  driven  him,  his  thoughts  had  turned 
upon  Alec  Forbes  and  his  antagonism.  Out  of  school,  he  could 
not  help  feeling  that  the  boy  had  not  been  very  far  wroug, 
however  subversive  of  authority  his  behaviour  had  been  ;  but 
it  was  not  therefore  the  less  mortifying  to  think  how  signally  he 
had  been  discomfited  by  him.  And  he  was  compelled  more- 
over to  acknowledge  to  himself  that  it  was  a  mercy  that  Alec 
was  not  the  boy  to  follow  up  his  advantage  by  heading — not  a 
party  against  the  master,  but  the  whole  school,  which  would 
have  been  ready  enough  to  follow  such  a  victorious  leader.  So 
there  was  but  one  way  of  setting  matters  right,  as  Mr  Malison 
had  generosity  enough  left  in  him  to  perceive  ;  and  that  was,  to 
make  a  friend  of  his  adversary.     Indeed  there  is  that  in  the 


106  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

depths  of  every  liumau  breast  which  makes  a  reconciliation  the 
only  victory  that  can  give  true  satisfaction.  Xor  was  the 
master  the  only  gainer  by  the  resolve  which  thus  arose  in  his 
mind  the  very  moment  before  he  felt  Alec's  tread  upon  the 
bridge. 

Tliey  walked  together  to  Howglen,  talking  kindly  the 
whole  way  ;  to  whicli  talk,  and  most  likely  to  which  kindness 
between  them,  a  little  incident  had  contributed  as  well.  Alec 
had  that  day  rendered  a  passage  of  Virgil  with  a  remarkable 
accuracy,  greatly  pleasing  to  the  master,  who,  however,  had  no 
idea  to  what  this  isolated  success  was  attributable.  I  forget 
the  passage  ;  but  it  had  reference  to  the  setting  of  sails,  and 
Alec  could  not  rest  till  he  had  satisfied  himself  about  its  mean- 
ing ;  for  when  we  are  once  interested  in  anything,  we  want  to 
see  it  nearer  as  often  as  it  looms  in  sight.  So  he  had  with 
some  difficulty  cleared  away  the  mists  that  clung  about  the 
words,  till  at  length  he  beheld  and  understood  the  fact  em- 
bodied in  them. 

Alec  had  never  had  praise  from  Mr  Malison  before — at 
least  none  that  had  made  any  impression  on  him — and  he  found 
it  very  sweet.  And  through  the  pleasure  dawned  the  notion 
that  perhaps  he  might  be  a  scholar  after  all  if  he  gave  his  mind 
to  it.  In  this  he  was  so  far  right :  a  fair  scholar  he  might  be, 
though  a  learned  man  he  never  could  be,  without  developing 
an  amount  of  will,  and  effecting  a  degree  of  self-conquest,  suf- 
ficient for  a  Jesuit, — losing  at  the  same  time  not  only  what  he 
was  especially  made  for  knowing,  but,  in  a  great  measure,  what 
he  was  especially  made  for  being.  Few,  however,  are  in  danger 
of  going  so  grievously  against  the  intellectual  impulses  of  their 
nature :  far  more  are  in  danger  of  following  them  without 
earnestness,  or  if  earnestly,  then  with  the  absorption  of  an 
eagerness  only  worldly. 

Mrs  Forbes,  seeing  the  pleasure  expressed  on  Alec's  coun- 
tenance, received  Mr  Malison  with  more  than  the  usual  cordi- 
ality, forgetting  when  he  was  present  before  her  eyes  what  she 
had  never  failed  to  think  of  with  bitterness  when  he  was  only 
present  to  her  mind. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over  Alec  rushed  off  to  the  river, 
leaving  his  mother  and  the  master  together.  Mrs  Forbes 
brought  out  the  whisky-bottle,  and  Mr  Malison,  mixing  a 
tumbler  of  toddy,  fdled  a  wine-glass  for  his  hostess. 

"  AVe'll  make  a  man  of  Alec  some  day  yet,"  said  he,  giving 
an  ill-considered  form  to  his  thoughts. 

"  'Deed  !  "  returned  Mrs  Forbes,  irritated  at  the  suggestion 
of  any  difficulty  in  the  way  of  Alec's  ultimate  manhood,  and 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOVVGLEN.  107 

perhaps  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  speaking  ber  mind — "  'Deed  ! 
Mr  Malison,  ye  made  a  bonnie  munsie  (monsieur)  o'  him  a 
month  ago.  It  wad  set  ye  weel  to  try  yer  band  at  makin'  a 
man  o'  him  noo." 

Had  Alec  been  within  bearing,  he  would  never  have  let  his 
mother  forget  this  speech.  For  had  not  she,  the  immaculate, 
the  reprover,  fallen  herself  into  the  slough  of  the  vernacular  ? 
The  fact  is,  it  is  easier  to  speak  the  truth  in  a  patois,  for  it  lies 
nearer  to  the  simple  realities  than  a  more  conventional  speech. 
I  do  not  however  allow  that  the  Scotch  is  a  patois  in  the 
ordinary  sense  of  the  word.  For  bad  not  Scotland  a  living 
literature,  and  that  a  high  one,  when  England  could  produce 
none,  or  next  to  none^ — 1  mean  in  the  fifteenth  century  ?  But 
old  age,  and  the  introduction  of  a  more  polished  form  of  utter- 
ance, have  given  to  the  Scotch  all  the  other  advantages  of  a 
patois,  in  addition  to  its  own  directness  and  simplicity. 

For  a  moment  the  dominie  was  taken  aback,  and  sat  red- 
dening over  his  toddy,  which,  not  dai'ing  even  to  taste  it,  he 
went  on  stirring  with  his  toddy-ladle.  For  one  of  the  disad- 
vantages of  a  broken  life  is,  that  what  a  person  may  do  with  a 
kind  of  conscience  in  the  one  part,  he  feels  compelled  to  blush 
for  in  the  other.  The  despotism  exercised  in  the  school,  even 
though  exercised  with  a  certain  sense  of  justice  and  right,  made 
the  autocrat,  out  of  school,  cower  before  the  parents  of  his 
helpless  subjects.  And  this  quailing  of  heart  arose  not  merely 
from  the  operation  of  selfish  feelings,  but  from  a  deliquium 
that  fell  upon  his  principles,  in  consequence  of  their  sudden 
exposure  to  a  more  open  atmosphere.  But  with  a  sudden  per- 
ception that  his  only  chance  was  to  throw  himself  on  the 
generosity  of  a  woman,  he  said  : 

"  Well,  ma'am,  if  you  had  to  keep  seventy  boys  and  girls 
quiet,  and  hear  them  their  lessons  at  the  same  time,  perhaps 
you  would  find  yourself  in  danger  of  doing  in  haste  what  you 
might  repent  at  leisure." 

"  Weel,  weel,  Mr  Malison,  we'll  say  nae  mair  aboot  it.  My 
laddie's  nane  the  waur  foi-'t  noo ;  and  I  hope  ye  will  mak  a  man 
o'  him  some  day,  as  ye  say." 

"  He  translated  a  passage  of  Virgil  to-day  in  a  manner  that 
surprised  me." 

"  Did  he  though  ?  He's  not  a  dunce,  I  know ;  and  if  it 
weren't  for  that  stupid  boat  he  and  Wilham  Macwha  are 
building,  he  might  be  made  a  scholar  of,  I  shouldn't  wonder. 
George  should  have  more  sense  than  encourage  such  a  waste 
of  time  and  money.  He's  always  wanting  something  or  other 
for  the  boat,  and  I  confess  I  can't  find  in  mv  heart  to  refuse 


108  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN 

him,  for,  whatever  be  may  be  at  school,  he's  a  good  boy  at  home, 
Mr  Malison." 

But  the  schoolmaster  did  not  reply  at  once,  for  a  light  had 
dawned  upon  him  :  this  then  was  the  secret  of  Alec's  transla- 
tion— a  secret  in  good  sooth  worth  his  finding  out.  One  can 
hardly  believe  that  it  should  have  been  to  the  schoolmaster  the 
first  revelation  of  the  fact  that  a  practical  interest  is  the 
strongest  incitement  to  a  theoretical  acquaintance.  But  such 
was  the  case.     He  answered  after  a  moment's  pause — 

"  I  suspect,  ma'am,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  boat,  of  which 
I  had  heard  nothing  till  now,  was  Alec's  private  tutor  in  the 
passage  of  Virgil  to  which  I  have  referred." 

"  1  don't  understand  you,  Mr  Malison." 

"  I  mean,  ma'am,  that  his  interest  in  his  boat  made  him 
take  an  interest  in  those  lines  about  ships  and  their  rigging. 
So  the  boat  taught  him  to  translate  them." 

"  I  see,  I  see." 

"  And  that  makes  me  doubt,  ma'am,  whether  we  shall  be 
able  to  make  him  learn  anything  to  good  purpose  that  he  does 
not  take  an  interest  in." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  he  is  fit  for,  Mr  Malison  ?  I 
should  like  him  to  be  able  to  be  something  else  than  a  farmer, 
whatever  he  may  settle  down  to  at  last." 

MJ'S  Forbes  thought,  whether  wisely  or  not,  that  as  long  as 
she  was  able  to  manage  the  farm,  Alec  might  as  well  be  other- 
wise employed.  And  she  had  ambition  for  her  son  as  well. 
But  the  master  was  able  to  make  no  definite  sue;":estion.  Alec 
seemed  to  have  no  special  qualification  for  any  profession  ;  for 
the  mechanical  and  constructive  faculties  had  alone  reached  a 
notable  development  in  him  as  yet.  So  after  a  long  talk,  his 
mother  and  the  schoolmaster  had  come  no  nearer  than  before 
to  a  determination  of  what  he  was  fit  for.  The  interview,  how- 
ever, restored  a  good  understanding  between  them. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


It  was  upon  a  Priday  night  that  the  frost  finally  broke  up. 
A  day  of  wintry  rain  followed,  dreary  and  depressing.  But 
the  two  boys.  Alec  Forbes  and  Willie  Macwha,  had  a  refuge 
from  the  ennui  commonly  attendant  on  such  weather,  in  the 
prosecution  of  their  boat-building.  Hence  it  came  to  pass 
that  in  the  early  evening  of  the  following  Saturday,  they  found 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEJiT.  109 

tbemselves  in  close  consultation  in  George  Macwha's  shop, 
upon  a  doubtful  point  involved  in  the  resumption  of  their 
labour.  But  they  could  not  settle  the  matter  without  reference 
to  the  master  of  the  mystery,  George  himself,  and  were,  in  the 
mean  time,  busy  getting  their  tools  in  order — when  he  entered, 
in  conversation  with  Thomas  Crann  the  mason,  who,  his  bodily 
labours  being  quite  interrupted  by  the  rain,  had  the  more 
leisure  apparently  to  bring  his  mental  powers  to  bear  upon  the 
condition  of  his  neighbours. 

"  It's  a  sod  pity,  George,"  he  was  saying  as  he  entered, 
"  that  a  man  like  you  wadna,  auce  for  a',  tak  thoucht  a  bit, 
and  consider  the  en'  o'  a'  thing  that  the  sun  shines  upo'." 

"  Hoo  do  ye  ken,  Tharaas,  that  I  dinna  tak  thoucht  ?  " 

"  Will  ye  say  'at  ye  div  tak  thoucht,  George  ?  " 

"  I'm  a  bit  o'  a  Protestant,  though  I'm  nae  missionar ;  an' 
I'm  no  inclined  to  confess,  Thamas — meanin'  no  ill-wdll  to  you 
for  a'  that,  ye  ken,"  added  George,  in  a  conciliatoiy  tone. 

"  Weel,  weel.  I  can  only  say  that  I  hae  seen  no  signs  o'  a 
savin'  seriousness  aboot  ye,  George.  Ye're  sair  ta'eu  up  wi' 
the  warl'." 

"  Hoo  mak'  ye  that  oot  ?  Te  big  booses,  an'  I  mak'  doors 
to  them.  And  they'll  baith  stan'  efter  you  an'  me's  laid  i' 
the  mouls. — It's  weel  kent  forbye  that  ye  hae  a  bit  siller  i'  the 
bank,  and  I  hae  none." 

"  Not  a  bawbee  hae  I,  George.  I  can  pray  for  my  daily 
breid  wi'  an  honest  hert ;  for  gin  the  Lord  dinna  sen'  't,  I  hae 
nae  bank  to  fa'  back  upo'." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  hear  't,  Thamas,"  said  George. — "  But  Guid 
guide  's !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  there's  the  twa  laddies,  hearkenin' 
to  ilka  word  'at  we  say  !  " 

He  hoped  thus,  but  hoped  in  vain,  to  turn  the  current  of 
the  conversation. 

"  A'  the  better  for  that !  "  persisted  Thomas.  "  They  need 
to  be  remin't  as  well  as  you  and  me,  that  the  fashion  o'  this 
warld  passeth  away.  Alec,  man,  Willie,  my  lad,  can  ye  big 
a  boat  to  tak'  ye  ower  the  river  o'  Deith  ? — Na,  ye'll  no  can 
do  that.  Te  maun  gae  through  that  watshod,  I  doobt !  But 
there's  an  ark  o'  the  Covenant  that'll  carry  ye  safe  ower  that 
and  a  waur  Hood  to  boot — and  that's  the  flood  o'  God's  w^rath 
against  evil-doers. — '  Upon  the  wicked  he  shall  rain  fire  and 
brimstone— a  furious  tempest.' — We  had  a  gran'  sermon  upo' 
the  ark  o'  the  Covenant  frae  young  Mr  Mirky  last  Sabbath 
nicht.  What  for  will  na  ye  come  and  hear  the  Gospel  for 
ance  and  awa'  at  least,  George  Macwha?  Ye  can  sit  i'  my 
seat." 


110  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  I'm  obleeged  to  ye,"  answered  George  ;  "  but  tlie  muckle 
kirk  does  weel  eueucli  for  me.  And  ye  ken  I'm  precentor, 
noo,  forbye." 

"  The  muckle  kirk  I  "  repeated  Thomas,  in  a  tone  of  con- 
tempt. "  "What  get  ye  there  but  the  dry  banes  o'  morality, 
upo'  which  the  win'  o'  the  word  has  never  blawn  to  pit  life 
into  the  puir  disjaskit  skeleton.  Come  ye  to  oor  kirk,  an' 
ye'll  get  a  rousin',  I  can  tell  ye,  man.  Eh !  man,  gin  ye  war 
ance  convertit,  ye  wad  ken  hoo  to  sing.  It's  no  great  singin' 
'at  ye  guide." 

Before  the  conversation  had  reached  this  point  another 
listener  had  arrived :  the  blue  eyes  of  Annie  Anderson  were 
fixed  upon  the  speaker  from  over  the  half-door  of  the  work- 
shop. The  dinp  from  the  thatch-eaves  was  dropping  upon 
her  shabby  little  shawl  as  she  stood,  but  she  was  utterly 
heedless  of  it  in  the  absorption  of  hearkening  to  Thomas 
Crann,  who  talked  with  authority,  and  a  kind  of  hard  elo- 
quence of  persuasion. 

I  ought  to  explain  here  that  the  mucMe  Jcirh  meant  the 
parish  church ;  and  that  the  religious  community  to  which 
Thomas  Crann  belonged  was  one  of  the  first  results  of  the 
propagation  of  English  Independency  in  Scotland.  These 
Independents  went  commonly  by  the  name  of  Missionais  in 
all  that  district ;  a  name  arising  apparently  from  the  fact  that 
they  were  the  first  in  the  neighbourhood  to  advocate  the 
sending  of  missionaries  to  the  heathen.  The  epithet  was,  how- 
ever, always  used  with  a  considerable  admixture  of  contempt, 

"  Are  ye  no  gaein  to  get  a  minister  o'  yer  ain,  Thamas  ?  " 
resumed  George,  after  a  pause,  still  wishing  to  turn  the 
cart-wheels  of  the  conversation  out  of  the  deep  ruts  in  which 
the  stiff-necked  Thomas  seemed  determined  to  keep  thera 
moving. 

"  Na ;  we'll  bide  a  bit,  and  try  the  speerite.  We're  no 
like  you — forced  to  lat  ower  (swalloiv)  ony  jabblo  o'  luke- 
warm water  that's  been  stan'in'  i'  the  sun  frae  year's  en'  to 
year's  en',  jist  because  the  patron  pleases  to  stick  a  pump 
intil  't  an'  ca'  't  a  well  o'  salvation.  We'll  ken  whaur  the 
water  comes  frae.     We'll  taste  them  a',  and  cheese  accordin'.  " 

"  Weel,  1  wadnalike  the  trouble  nor  yet  the  responsibility." 

"  I  daursay  not." 

"  Na.  Nor  yet  the  shame  o'  pretennin'  to  jeedge  my 
betters,"  added  George,  now  a  little  nettled,  as  was  generally 
the  result  at  last  of  Thomas's  sarcastic  tone. 

"  George,"  said  Thomas  solemnly,  "  nana  but  them  that 
has  the  speerit  can  ken  the  speerit." 


ALEC    FORBES   OF   HOVVGLEN.  Ill 

"With  these  words,  he  turned  and  strode  slowly  and  gloomily 
out  of  the  shop — no  doubt  from  dissatisfaction  with  the  result 
of  his  attempt. 

Who  does  not  see  that  Thomas  had  a  hold  of  something  to 
which  George  was  altogether  a  stranger  ?  Surely  it  is  some- 
thing more  to  stand  with  Moses  upon  Mount  Sinai,  and  see 
the  back  of  God  through  ever  so  many  folds  of  cloudy  dark- 
ness, than  be  sitting  down  to  eat  and  drink,  or  rising  up  to 
play  about  the  golden  calf,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  And 
that  Thomas  was  possessed  of  some  divine  secret,  the  heart  of 
child  Annie  was  perfectly  convinced  ;  the  tone  of  his  utterance 
having  a  greater  share  in  producing  this  conviction  than  any- 
thing he  had  said.  As  he  passed  out,  she  looked  up  reverently 
at  him,  as  one  to  whom  deep  things  lay  open.  Thomas  had  a 
kind  of  gruff  gentleness  towards  children  which  they  found 
very  attractive ;  and  this  meek  maiden  he  could  not  threaten 
with  the  vials  of  wrath.  He  laid  his  hard  heavy  hand  kindly 
on  her  head,  saying  -. 

"  Te'll  be  ane  o'  the  Lord's  lambs,  will  ye  no  ?  Te'll  gang 
into  the  fold  efter  him,  will  ye  no  ?  " 

"  Ay  will  I,"  answered  Annie,  "  gin  He'll  lat  in  Alec  and 
Curly  too." 

"  Ye  maun  mak  nae  bargains  wi'  him  ;  but  gin  they'll  gang 
in,  he'll  no  baud  them  oot." 

And  away,  somewhat  comforted,  the  honest  stonemason 
strode,  through  the  darkness  and  the  rain,  to  his  own  rather 
cheerless  home,  where  he  had  neither  wife  nor  child  to  wel- 
come him.  An  elderly  woman  took  care  of  his  house,  whose 
habitual  attitude  towards  him  was  one  half  of  awe  and  half  of 
resistance.  The  moment  he  entered,  she  left  the  room  where 
she  had  been  sitting,  without  a  word  of  welcome,  and  betook 
herself  to  the  kitchen,  where  she  prepared  his  plate  of  porridge 
or  bowl  of  brose.  AVith  this  in  one  hand,  and  a  jug  of  milk  in 
the  other,  she  soon  returned,  placing  them  like  a  peace-oifering 
on  the  table  before  him.  Having  completed  the  arrangement 
by  the  addition  of  a  horn  spoon  from  a  cupboard  in  the  wall, 
she  again  retired  in  silence.  The  moment  she  vanished 
Thomas's  blue  bonnet  was  thrown  into  a  corner,  and  with 
folded  hands  and  bent  head  he  prayed  a  silent  prayer  over  his 
homely  meal. 

By  this  time  Alec  and  Curly,  having  received  sufficient  in- 
struction from  George  Macwha,  were  in  full  swing  with  their 
boat-building.  But  the  moment  Thomas  went.  Alec  had  taken 
Annie  to  the  forge  to  get  her  well-dried,  before  he  would  allow 
her  to  occupy  her  old  place  in  the  heap  of  spales. 


112  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Wha's  preachin'  at  the  missiouar-kirk  the  morn,  Willie  ?" 
asked  the  boy's  father.  For  Willie  knew  everything  that  took 
place  in  G-Iamerton. 

"  Mr  Broon,"  answered  Curly. 

"  He's  a  guid  man  that,  ony  gait,"  returned  his  father. 
"  There's  nae  mony  like  him.  I  think  I'll  turn  missionar  my- 
sel',  for  ance  and  awa',  and  gang  and  hear  him  the  morn's 
nicht." 

At  the  same  instant  Annie  entered  the  shop,  her  face  glow- 
ing with  the  heat  of  the  forge  and  the  pleasure  of  rejoining  her 
friends.  Her  appearance  turned  the  current,  and  no  more  was 
said  about  the  missionar-kirk. — Many  minutes  did  not  pass 
before  she  had  begun  to  repeat  to  the  eager  listeners  one  of  the 
two  new  poems  which  she  had  got  ready  for  them  from  the  book 
Miss  Cowie  had  lent  her. 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 


Whatever  effect  the  remonstrances  of  Thomas  might  or 
might  not  have  upon  the  rest,  Annie  had  heard  enough  to  make 
her  want  to  go  to  the  missiouar-kirk.  For  was  it  not  plain  that 
Thomas  Crann  knew  something  that  she  did  not  know  ?  and 
where  could  he  have  learned  it  but  at  the  said  kirk  ?  There 
must  be  something  going  on  there  worth  looking  into.  Per- 
haps there  she  might  learn  just  what  she  needed  to  know ;  for, 
happy  as  she  was,  she  would  have  been  much  happier  had  it 
not  been  for  a  something — she  could  neither  describe  nor  un- 
derstand it — which  always  rose  between  her  and  the  happiness. 
She  did  not  lay  the  blame  on  circumstances,  though  they  might 
well,  in  her  case,  have  borne  a  part  of  it.  AVhatever  was,  to 
her  was  right ;  and  she  never  dreamed  of  rebelling  against  her 
position.  For  she  was  one  of  those  simple  creatures  who  per- 
ceive at  once  that  if  they  are  to  set  anything  right  for  them- 
selves or  other  people,  they  must  begin  with  their  own  selves, 
their  inward  being  and  life.  So  without  knowing  that  George 
Macwha  intended  to  be  there,  with  no  cxj>ectation  of  seeing 
Alec  or  Curly,  and  witliout  having  consulted  any  of  the  Bruce 
family,  she  found  herself,  a  lew  minutes  after  the  service  had 
commenced,  timidly  pecKing  through  the  inner  door  of  the 
chapel,  and  starting  back,  with  mingled  shyness  and  awe,  from 
the  wide  solemnity  of  the  place.     Every  eye  seemed  to  have 


AtEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  113 

darted  upon  her  the  moment  she  made  a  chink  of  light  between 
the  door  and  its  post.  How  spiritually  does  every  child-nature 
feel  the  solemnity  of  the  place  where  people,  of  whatever  belief 
or  whatever  intellectual  rank,  meet  to  worship  God !  The  air 
of  the  temple  belongs  to  the  poorest  meeting-room  as  much  as 
to  the  grandest  cathedral.  And  what  added  to  the  effect  on 
Annie  was,  that  the  reputation  of  Mr  Brown  having  drawn  a 
great  congregation  to  hear  him  preach  that  evening,  she,  peep- 
ing through  the  door,  saw  nothing  but  live  faces ;  whereas  Mr 
Cowie's  church,  to  which  she  was  in  the  habit  of  going,  though 
much  larger,  was  only  so  much  the  more  empty.  She  withdrew 
in  dismay  to  go  up  into  the  gallery,  where,  entering  from  be- 
hind, she  would  see  fewer  faces,  and  might  creep  unperceived 
into  the  shelter  of  a  pew  ;  for  she  felt  "  little  better  than  one  of 
the  wicked  "  in  having  arrived  late.  So  she  stole  up  the  awful 
stair  and  into  the  wide  gallery,  as  a  chidden  dog  might  steal 
across  the  room  to  creep  under  the  master's  table.  Not  daring 
to  look  up,  she  went  with  noiseless  difficulty  down  a  steep  step 
or  two,  and  perched  herself  timidly  on  the  edge  of  a  seat,  beside 
an  old  lady,  who  had  kindly  made  room  for  her.  When  she 
ventured  (o  lift  her  eyes,  she  found  herself  in  the  middle  of  a 
sea  of  heads.  But  she  saw  in  the  same  glance  that  no  one  was 
taking  any  notice  of  her,  which  discovery  acted  wonderfully  as 
a  restorative.  The  minister  was  reading,  in  a  solemn  voice,  a 
terrible  chapter  of  denunciation  out  of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  and 
Annie  was  soon  seized  with  a  deep  listening  awe.  The  severity 
of  the  chapter  was,  however,  considerably  mollified  by  the  gen- 
tleness of  the  old  lady,  who  put  into  her  hand  a  Bible,  smelling 
sweetly  of  dried  starry  leaves  and  southernwood,  in  which 
Annie  followed  the  reading  word  for  word,  feeling  sadly  con- 
demned if  she  happened  to  allow  her  eyes  to  wander  for  a  sin- 
gle moment  from  the  book.  After  the  long  prayer,  during 
which  they  all  stood — a  posture  certainly  more  reverential  than 
the  sitting  which  so  commonly  passes  for  kneeling — and  the 
long  psalm,  during  which  they  all  sat,  the  sermon  began  ;  and 
again  for  a  moment  Annie  ventured  to  look  up,  feeling  pro- 
tected from  behind  by  the  back  of  the  pew,  which  reached  high 
above  her  head.  Before  her  she  saw  no  face  but  that  of  the 
minister,  between  which  and  her,  beyond  the  front  of  the  gal- 
lery, lay  a  gulfy  space,  where,  down  in  the  bottom,  sat  other 
listening  souls,  with  upturned  faces  and  eyes,  unseen  of  Annie, 
all  their  regards  converging  upon  the  countenance  of  the  minis- 
ter. He  was  a  thin-faced  cadaverous  man,  with  a  self-severe 
saintly  look,  one  to  whom  religion  was  clearly  a  reality,  though 
not  so  clearly  a  gladness,  one  whose  opinions — vague  half-mon- 


114  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

strous  embodiments  of  truth — helped  to  give  him  a  conscious- 
ness of  the  life  which  sprung  from  a  source  far  deeper  than  his 
consciousness  could  reach.  I  wonder  if  one  will  ever  be  able 
^to  understand  the  worship  of  his  childhood — that  revering  up- 
ward look  which  must  have  been  founded  on  a  reality,  how- 
ever much  after  experience  may  have  shown  the  supposed 
grounds  of  reverence  to  be  untenable.  The  moment  Annie 
looked  in  the  face  of  Mr  Brown,  she  submitted  absolutely  ;  she 
enshrined  him  and  worshipped  him  with  an  awful  reverence. 
Nor  to  the  end  of  her  days  did  she  lose  this  feeling  towards 
him.  True,  she  came  to  see  that  he  was  a  man  of  ordinary 
stature,  and  that  some  of  the  religious  views  which  he  held  in 
common  with  his  brethren  were  dishonouring  of  Grod,  and 
therefore  could  not  be  elevating  to  the  creature.  But  when 
she  saw  these  and  other  like  facts,  they  gave  her  no  shock — 
they  left  the  reflex  of  the  man  in  her  mind  still  unspotted,  un- 
impaired. How  could  this  be  ?  Simply  because  they  left  un- 
altered the  conviction  that  this  man  believed  in  God,  and  that 
the  desire  of  his  own  heart  brought  him  into  some  real,  how- 
ever undefinable,  relation  to  him  who  was  yet  nearer  to  him 
than  that  desire  itself,  and  whose  presence  had  caused  its 
birth. 

He  chose  for  his  text  these  words  of  the  Psalmist :  "  The 
wicked  shall  be  turned  into  hell,  and  all  the  nations  that  forget 
God."  His  sermon  was  less  ponderous  in  construction  and 
multitudinous  in  division  than  usual ;  for  it  consisted  simply 
of  answers  to  the  two  questions:  "  AVho  are  the  wicked  ?  " 
and  "  What  is  their  fate  ?  "  The  answer  to  the  former  ques- 
tion was,  "  The  wicked  are  those  that  forget  God  ; "  the 
answer  to  the  latter,  "  The  torments  of  everlasting  fire." 
Upon  Annie  the  sermon  produced  the  immediate  conviction 
that  she  was  one  of  the  wicked,  and  that  she  was  in  danger  of 
hell-fire.  The  distress  generated  by  the  earlier  part  of  the 
sermon,  however,  like  that  occasioned  by  the  chapter  of  pro- 
phecy, was  considerably  mitigated  by  the  kindness  of  an  un- 
known hand,  which,  appearing  occasionally  over  her  shoulder 
from  behind,  kept  up  a  counteractive  ministration  of  pepj)er- 
raint  lozenges.  But  the  representations  grew  so  much  in  horror 
as  the  sermon  approached  its  end,  that,  wlien  at  last  it  was 
over,  and  Annie  drew  one  long  breath  of  exhaustion,  hardly  of 
relief,  she  became  aware  that  the  peppermint  lozenge  whieli 
had  been  given  her  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before,  was  lying  still 
undissolved  in  her  mouth. 

AV^hat  had  added  considerably  to  the  effect  of  the  preacher's 
words,  was  that,  in  the  middle  of  the  sermon,  she  had,  all  at 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  115 

once,  caught  sight  of  the  face  of  George  Macwha  diagonally 
opposite  to  her,  his  eyes  looking  like  ears  with  the  intensity  of 
his  listening.  Xor  did  the  rather  comical  episode  of  the  snuff- 
ing of  the  candles  in  the  least  interfere  with  the  solemnity  of 
the  tragic  whole.  The  gallery  was  lighted  by  three  coroncs  of 
tallow  candles,  which,  persisting  in  growing  long-nosed  and 
dim-sighted,  had,  at  varying  periods,  according  as  the  necessity 
revealed  itself  to  a  certain  half-witted  individual  of  the  congre- 
gation, to  be  snodded  laboriously.  AVithout  losing  a  word  that 
the  preacher  uttered,  Annie  watched  the  process  intently. 
"What  made  it  ludicrous  was,  that  the  man,  having  taken  up 
his  weapon  with  the  air  of  a  pious  executioner,  and  having 
tipped  the  chandelier  towards  him,  began,  from  the  operation 
of  some  occult  sympathy,  to  open  the  snuffers  and  his  own 
mouth  simultaneously ;  and  by  the  time  the  black  devouring 
jaws  of  the  snuffers  had  reached  their  full  stretch,  his  own  jaws 
had  become  something  dragonlike  and  hideous  to  behold — 
when  both  shut  with  a  convulsive  snap.  Add  to  this  that  he 
was  long-sighted  and  often  missed  a  candle  several  times  be- 
fore he  succeeded  in  snuffing  it,  whereupon  the  whole  of  the 
opening  and  shutting  process  had  to  be  repeated,  sometimes 
with  no  other  result  than  that  of  snuffing  the  caudle  out,  which 
had  then  to  be  pulled  from  its  socket  and  applied  to  the  next 
for  re-illumination.  But  nothing  could  be  farther  from  Annie's 
mood  than  a  laugh  or  even  a  smile,  though  she  gazed  as  if  she 
were  fascinated  by  the  snuffers,  which  were  dreadfully  like  one 
of  the  demons  in  a  wood-cut  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of 
Death  in  the  Filgrlms  Progress  without  boards,  which  had  be- 
longed to  her  father. 

When  all  had  ceased — when  the  prayer,  the  singing,  and 
the  final  benediction  were  over,  xlunie  crept  out  into  the  dark 
street  as  if  into  the  Outer  Darkness.  She  felt  the  rain  falling 
upon  something  hot,  but  she  hardly  knew  that  it  was  her  own 
cheeks  that  were  being  wetted  by  the  heavy  drops.  Her  first 
impulse  was  to  run  to  Alec  and  Curly,  put  her  arms  about 
their  necks,  and  entreat  them  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come. 
But  she  could  not  find  them  to-night.  She  must  go  home.  For 
herself  she  was  not  much  afraid  ;  for  there  was  a  place  where 
prayer  was  heard  as  certainly  as  at  the  mercy-seat  of  old — a 
little  garret  room  namely,  with  holes  in  the  floor,  out  of  which 
came  rats  ;  but  with  a  door  as  well,  in  at  which  came  the 
prayed-for  cat. 

But  alas  for  poor  Annie  and  her  chapel-going !  As  she 
was  creeping  slowly  up  from  step  to  step  in  the  dark,  the  feel- 
ing came  over  her  that  it  was  no  longer  against  rats,  nor  yet 


116  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

against  evil  things  dwelling  in  the  holes  and  corners  of  a  neglect- 
ed human  world,  that  she  had  to  pray.  A  spiritual  terror  was 
seated  on  the  throne  of  the  universe,  and  was  called  Grod — and 
to  whom  should  she  pray  against  it?  Amidst  the  darkness,  a 
deeper  darkness  fell. 
''  She  knelt  by  her  bedside,  but  she  could  not  lift  up  her 
heart ;  for  was  she  not  one  of  them  that  forget  Grod  ?  and  was 
she  not  therefore  wacked  ?  and  was  not  God  angry  with  her 
every  day  ?  "Was  not  the  fact  that  she  could  not  pray  a  cer- 
tain proof  that  she  was  out  of  God's  favour,  and  counted  un- 
worthy of  his  notice  ? 

But  there  was  Jesus  Christ :  she  would  cry  to  him.  But 
did  she  believe  in  him  ?  She  tried  hard  to  convince  herself 
that  she  did ;  but  at  last  she  laid  her  weary  head  on  the  bed, 
and  groaned  iu  her  young  despair.  At  the  moment  a  rustling 
in  the  darkness  broke  the  sad  silence  with  a  throb  of  terror. 
She  started  to  her  feet.  She  was  exposed  to  all  the  rats  in  the 
universe  now,  for  God  was  angry  with  her,  and  she  could  not 
pray.  "With  a  stifled  scream  she  darted  to  the  door,  and  half 
tumbled  down  the  stair  iu  an  agony  of  fear. 

"  AVhat  gars  ye  mak  sic  a  din  i'  the  hoose  o'  the  Sawbath 
nicht  ?  "  screamed  Mrs  Bruce. 

But  little  did  Annie  feel  the  reproof  And  as  little  did  she 
know  that  the  dreaded  rats  had  this  time  been  the  messengers 
of  God  to  drive  her  from  a  path  in  which  lies  madness. 

She  was  forced  at  length  to  go  to  bed,  where  God  made 
her  sleep  and  forget  him,  and  the  rats  did  not  come  near  her 
again  that  night. 

Curly  and  Alec  had  been  in  the  chapel  too,  but  they  were 
not  of  a  temperament  to  be  disturbed  by  Mr  Brown's  dis- 
course. 


CHAPTEE  XXVII. 


Little  as  Murdoch  Malison  knew  of  the  worlds  of  thought 
and  feeling — Annie's  among  the  rest — which  lay  within  tliose 
young  faces  and  forms  assembled  the  next  day  as  usual,  he 
knew  almost  as  little  of  the  mysteries  that  lay  within  himself 

Annie  was  haunted  all  day  wnth  the  thought  of  the  wrath 
of  God.  When  she  forgot  it  for  a  moment,  it  would  return 
again  with  a  sting  of  actual  physical  pain,  which  seemed  to 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  117 

pierce  her  heai^t.  Before  school  was  over  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  what  to  do. 

And  before  school  was  over  Malison's  own  deed  had  opened 
his  own  eyes,  had  broken  through  the  crust  that  lay  between 
him  and  the  vision  of  his  own  character. 

There  is  not  to  be  found  a  more  thorough  impersonation  of 
his  own  theology  than  a  Scotch  schoolmaster  of  the  rough  old- 
fashioned  type.  His  pleasure  was  law,  irrespective  of  right  or 
wrong,  and  the  reward  of  submission  to  law  was  immunity 
from  punishment.  He  had  his  favourites  in  various  degrees, 
whom  he  chose  according  to  inexplicable  directions  of  feeling 
ratified  by  "  the  freedom  of  his  own  will."  These  found  it 
easy  to  please  him,  while  those  with  whom  he  was  not  pri- 
marily pleased,  found  it  impossible  to  please  him. 

Now  there  had  come  to  the  school,  about  a  fortnight  before, 
two  unhappy-looking  little  twin  orphans,  with  white  thin  faces, 
and  bones  in  their  clothes  instead  of  legs  and  arms,  committed 
to  the  mercies  of  Mr  Malison  by  their  grandfather.  Bent  into 
all  the  angles  of  a  grasshopper,  and  lean  with  ancient  poverty, 
the  old  man  tottered  away  with  his  stick  in  one  hand,  stretched 
far  out  to  support  his  stooping  frame,  and  carried  in  the  other 
the  caps  of  the  two  forsaken  urchins,  saying,  as  he  went,  in  a 
quavering,  croaking  voice, 

"  I'll  jist  tak  them  wi'  me,  or  they'll  no  be  fit  for  the  Saw- 
bath  aboon  a  fortnicht.  They're  terrible  laddies  to  blaud 
(spoil)  their  claes  !  " 

Turning  with  difl&culty  when  he  had  reached  the  door,  he 
added : 

"  Noo  ye  jist  gie  them  their  whups  weel.  Master  Maili- 
son,  for  ye  ken  that  he  that  spareth  the  rod  blaudeth  the 
bairn." 

Thus  authorized.  Malison  certainly  did  "gie  them  their 
whups  weel."  Before  the  day  was  over  they  had  both  lain 
shrieking  on  the  floor  under  the  torture  of  the  lash.  And  such 
poor  half-clothed,  half-fed  creatures  they  were,  and  looked  so 
pitiful  and  cowed,  that  one  cannot  help  thinking  it  must  have 
been  for  his  own  glory  rather  than  their  good  that  he  treated 
them  thus. 

But,  in  justice  to  Malison,  another  fact  must  be  mentioned, 
which,  although  inconsistent  with  the  one  just  recorded,  was 
in  perfect  consistency  with  the  theological  subsoil  whence  both 
sprang.  After  about  a  week,  during  which  they  had  been 
whipt  almost  every  day,  the  orphans  came  to  school  with  a  cold 
and  a  terrible  cough.  Then  his  observant  pupils  saw  the  man 
who  was  both  cruel  judge  and  cruel  executioner,  feeding  hi" 


118  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

victims   with  liquorice  till   their   faces  were  stained  with  its 
exuberance. 

The  old  habits  of  severity,  which  had  been  in  some  measure 
intermitted,  had  returned  upon  him  with  gathered  strength, 
and  this  day  Anne  was  to  be  one  of  the  victims.  For  although 
he  would  not  dare  to  whip  her,  he  was  about  to  incur  the 
sliame  of  making  this  day,  pervaded  as  it  was,  through  all  its 
spaces  of  time  and  light,  with  the  fumes  of  the  sermon  she  had 
heard  the  night  before,  the  most  wretched  day  that  Anne's  sad 
life  had  yet  seen.  Indeed,  although  she  afterwards  passed 
many  more  sorrowful  days,  she  never  had  to  pass  one  so  utterly 
miserable.  The  spirits  of  the  pit  seemed  to  have  broken  loose 
and  filled  Murdoch  Malison's  school-room  with  the  stench  of 
their  fire  and  brimstone. 

As  she  sat  longing  for  school  to  be  over,  that  she  might 
follow  a  plan  which  had  a  glimmer  of  hope  in  it,  stupified  with 
her  labouring  thoughts,  and  overcome  with  wretchedness,  she 
fell  fast  asleep.  She  was  roused  by  a  smart  blow  from  the 
taws,  flung  with  unerring  aim  at  the  back  of  her  bare  bended 
neck.  She  sprang  up  with  a  cry,  and,  tottering  between  sleep 
and  terror,  proceeded  at  once  to  take  the  leather  snake  back 
to  the  master.  But  she  would  have  fallen  in  getting  over  the 
form  had  not  Alec  caught  her  in  his  arms.  He  re-seated  her, 
and  taking  the  taws  from  her  trembling  hand,  carried  it  himself 
to  the  tyrant.  Upon  him  Malison's  fury,  breaking  loose,  ex- 
pended itself  in  a  dozen  blows  on  the  right  hand,  which  Alec 
held  up  without  flinching.  As  he  walked  to  his  seat,  burning 
with  paiu,  the  voice  of  the  master  sounded  behind  him ;  but 
with  the  decree  it  uttered.  Alec  did  not  feel  himself  at  liberty 
to  interfere. 

"  Ann  Anderson,"  he  bawled,  "stand  up  on  the  seat." 

With  trembling  limbs,  Annie  obeyed.  She  could  scarcely 
stand  at  first,  and  the  form  shook  beneath  her.  For  some  time 
her  colour  kept  alternating  between  crimson  and  white,  but  at  ■ 
last  settled  into  a  deadly  pallor.  Indeed,  it  was  to  her  a  ter- 
i^ible  punishment  to  be  exposed  to  the  looks  of  all  the  boys  and 
girls  in  the  school.  The  elder  Bruce  tried  hard  to  make  her 
see  one  of  his  vile  grimaces,  but,  feeling  as  if  every  nerve  in  her 
body  were  being  stung  with  eyes,  she  never  dared  to  look  away 
from  the  book  which  she  held  upside  down  before  her  own 
sightless  eyes. — This  pillory  was  the  punishment  due  to  falling 
asleep,  as  hell  was  the  punishment  for  forgetting  God;  and 
there  she  had  to  stand  for  a  whole  hour. 

"  What  a  shame  !  Damn  that  Malison  .'"  and  various  other 
subdued  exclamations   were   murmured  about  the  room;   for 


ALEC   rOKBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  119 

Annie  was  a  favourite  with  most  of  the  boys,  and  yet  more  be- 
cause she  was  the  General's  sweetheart,  as  they  said ;  but  these 
ebullitions  of  popular  feeling  were  too  faint  to  reach  her  ears 
and  comfort  her  isolation  and  exposure.  Worst  of  all,  she  had 
soon  to  behold,  with  every  advantage  of  position,  an  outbreak 
of  the  master's  temper,  far  more  painful  than  she  had  yet  seen, 
both  from  its  cruelty  and  its  consequences. 

A  small  class  of  mere  children,  amongst  whom  were  the 
orphan  TrufFeys,  had  been  committed  to  the  care  of  one  of  the 
bigger  boys,  while  the  master  was  engaged  with  another  class. 
Every  boy  in  the  latter  had  already  had  his  share  of  pandies, 
when  a  noise  in  the  children's  class  attracting  the  master's 
attention,  he  saw  one  of  the  Truffeys  hit  another  boy  in  the 
face.  He  strode  upon  him  at  once,  and  putting  no  question  as 
to  provocation,  took  him  by  the  neck,  fixed  it  between  his 
knees,  and  began  to  lash  him  with  hissing  blows.  In.  his  agony, 
the  little  fellow  contrived  to  twist  his  head  about  and  get  a 
mouthful  of  the  master's  leg,  inserting  his  teeth  in  a  most 
canine  and  praiseworthy  manner.  The  master  caught  him  up, 
and  dashed  him  on  the  floor.  There  the  child  lay  motionless. 
Alarmed,  and  consequently  cooled.  Malison  proceeded  to  lift 
him.  He  was  apparently  lifeless  ;  but  he  had  only  fainted  with 
pain.  AVhen  he  came  to  himself  a  little,  it  was  found  that  his 
leg  was  hurt.  It  appeared  afterwards  that  the  knee-cap  was 
greatly  injured.  Moaning  with  pain,  he  was  sent  home  on  the 
back  of  a  big  parish  scholar. 

At  all  this  Anne  stared  from  her  pillory  with  horror.  The 
feeling  that  God  was  angry  with  her  grew  upon  her ;  and 
Murdoch  Malison  became  for  a  time  inseparably  associated  with 
her  idea  of  God,  frightfully  bewildering  all  her  aspirations. 

The  master  still  looked  uneasy,  threw  the  tag  into  his  desk, 
and  beat  no  one  more  that  day.  Indeed,  only  half  an  hour  of 
school-time  was  left.  As  soon  as  that  was  over,  he  set  off"  at  a 
swinging  pace  for  the  old  grandfather's  cottage. 

What  passed  there  was  never  known.  The  other  Truffey 
came  to  school  the  next  day  as  usual,  and  told  the  boys  that 
his  brother  was  in  bed.  In  that  bed  he  lay  for  many  weeks, 
and  many  were  the  visits  the  master  paid  him.  This  did  much 
with  the  townsfolk  to  wipe  away  his  reproach.  They  spoke  of 
the  affair  as  an  unfortunate  accident,  and  pitied  the  school- 
master even  more  than  the  sufferer. 

When  at  length  the  poor  boy  was  able  to  leave  his  bed,  it 
became  apparent  that,  either  through  unskilful  treatment,  or 
as  the  unavoidable  result  of  the  injury,  he  would  be  a  cripple 
for  life. 


120  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

The  master's  general  behaviour  was  certainly  modified  by 
this  consequence  of  his  fury ;  but  it  was  some  time  before  the 
full  reaction  arrived. 


CHAPTEE  XXYII. 


When  Annie  descended  from  her  hateful  eminence,  just 
before  the  final  prayer,  it  was  with  a  deeper  sense  of  degrada- 
tion than  any  violence  of  the  tawse  on  her  poor  little  hands 
could  have  produced.  Xor  could  the  attentions  of  Alec, 
anxiously  ofi'ered  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  school,  reach 
half  so  far  to  console  her  as  they  might  once  have  reached ;  for 
such  was  her  sense  of  condemnation,  that  she  dared  not  take 
pleasure  in  anything.  Xothing  else  was  worth  minding  till 
something  was  done  about  that.  The  thought  of  having  God 
against  her  took  the  heart  out  of  everything. — As  soon  as  Alec 
left  her,  she  walked  with  hanging  head,  pale  face,  and  mourn- 
ful eyes,  straight  to  Mr  Cowie's  door. 

She  was  admitted  at  once,  and  shown  into  the  library,  where 
the  clergyman  sat  in  the  red  dusky  glow  of  the  fii'elight,  sipping 
a  glass  of  wine,  and  looking  very  much  like  an  ox-animal  chew- 
ing the  cud  ;  for  the  meditation  in  which  the  good  man  indulged 
over  his  wine  was  seldom  worthy  of  being  characterized  other- 
wise than  as  mental  rumination. 

"  AVell,  Annie,  my  dear,  come  away,"  said  he,  "I  am  glad  to 
see  you.     How  does  the  boat  get  on  ?  " 

Deeply  touched  by  a  kindness  which  fell  like  dew  upon  the 
parching  misery  of  the  day,  Annie  burst  into  tears.  Mr  Cowie 
wag  greatly  distressed.  He  drew  her  between  his  knees,  laid 
his  cheek  against  hers,  as  was  his  way  with  children,  and  said 
with  soothing  tenderness : 

"  Walawa !  what's  the  matter  with  my  dawtie  ?  " 

After  some  vain  attempts  at  speech,  Annie  succeeded  in 
giving  the  following  account  of  the  matter,  much  interrupted 
Avith  sobs  and  fresh  outbursts  of  weeping. 

"  Te  see,  sir,  I  gaed  last  nicht  to  the  missionar  kirk  to  hear 
Mr  Broon.  And  he  preached  a  gran'  sermon,  sir.  But  I 
haena  been  able  to  bide  mysel'  sin'  syne.  Eor  I  doobt  I'm 
ane  o'  the  wicked  'at  God  hates,  and  I'll  never  win'  to  haven 
at  a',  for  I  canna  help  forgettin'  him  whiles.  An'  the  wicked'll 
be  turned  into  hell,  and  a'  tiie  nations  that  forget  God. 
That  was  his  text,  sir.     And  I  cauua  bide  it." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  121 

In  the  bosom  of  the  good  man  rose  a  gentle  indignation 
against  the  schismatics  who  had  thus  terrified  and  bewildered 
that  sacred  being,  a  maid-child.  But  what  could  he  say  ?  He 
thought  for  a  moment,  and  betook  himself,  in  his  perplexity,  to 
his  common  sense. 

"  You  haven't  forgotten  your  father,  have  you,  Annie  ?  " 
said  he. 

"  I  think  aboot  him  maist  ilka  day,"  answered  Annie. 

"But  there  comes  a  day  now  and  then  when  you  don't 
think  much  about  him,  does  there  not  ?  " 

"Tes,  sir." 

"  Do  you  think  he  would  be  angry  with  his  child  because 
she  was  so  much  taken  up  with  her  books  or  her  play " 

"  I  never  play  at  onything,  sir." 

"  Well— Avith  learning  songs  to  say  to  Alec  Forbes  and 
Willie  Maewha — do  you  think  he  would  be  angry  that  you 
didn't  think  about  him  that  day,  especially  when  you  can't  see 
him  ?  " 

"  'Deed  no,  sir.     He  wadna  be  sae  sair  upo'  me  as  that." 

"  What  would  he  say,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Gin  Mr  Bruce  war  to  cast  it  up  till  me,  he  wad  say  :  '  Lat 
alane  the  lassie.  She'll  think  aboot  me  the  morn — time 
eneuch.' " 

"  Well,  don't  you  think  your  Father  in  heaven  would  say 
the  same?  " 

"  Maybe  he  micht,  sir.  But  ye  see  my  father  was  my  ain 
father,  and  wad  mak'  the  best  o'  me." 

"  And  is  not  God  kiuder  than  your  father  ?  " 

"  He  canna  weel  be  that,  sir.     And  there's  the  Scripter  !  " 

"But  he  sent  his  only  Son  to  die  for  us." 

"Ay — for  the  eleck,  sir,"  returned  the  little  theologian. 

Now  this  was  more  than  Mr  Cowie  was  well  prepared  to 
meet,  for  certainly  this  terrible  doctrine  was  perfectly  developed 
in  the  creed  of  the  Scotch  Church ;  the  assembly  of  divines  having 
sat  upon  the  Scripture  egg  till  they  had  hatched  it  in  their  own 
likeness.  Poor  Mr  Cowie  !  There  were  the  girl-eyes,  blue, 
and  hazy  with  tearful  questions,  looking  up  at  him  hungrily. — 
O  stai'ving  little  brothers  and  sisters !  God  does  love  you,  and 
all  shall  be,  and  therefore  is,  well. — But  the  minister  could  not 
say  this,  gladly  as  he  would  have  said  it  if  he  could ;  and  the 
only  result  of  his  efforts  to  find  a  suitable  reply  was  that  he  lost 
his  temper— not  with  Annie,  but  with  the  doctrine  of  election. 

"  Gang  ye  hame,  Annie,  my  bairn,"  said  he,  talking  Scotch 
now,  "  and  dinna  trouble  yer  held  about  election,  and  a'  that. 
It's  no'  a  canny  doctrine.      No  mortal  man  could  ever  win  at 


122  ALEC    FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

the  boddom  o'  't.  I'm  tbinkin'  we  haeua  muckle  to  do  w'  't. 
Gang  bame,  dawtie,  and  say  yer  prayers  to  be  preserved  frae 
the  wiles  o'  Sawtan.     Tbere  's  a  sixpence  to  ye." 

His  kind  beart  was  sorely  grieved  tbat  all  it  could  give  was 
money.  Sbe  bad  asked  for  bread,  and  be  bad  but  a  stone,  as 
be  tbougbt,  to  give  ber.  So  be  gave  it  ber  with  sbame.  He 
migbt  bowever  bave  reversed  tbe  words  of  St  Peter,  saying, 
"Spiritual  aid  I  bave  none,  but  sucb  as  I  bave  give  I  tbee;" 
and  so  offered  ber  tbe  sixpence.  But,  for  my  part,  I  tbink  tbe 
sixpence  bad  more  of  bread  in  it  tban  any  tbeology  be  migbt 
bave  been  expected  to  bave  at  band ;  for,  so  given,  it  was  tbe 
symbol  and  tbe  sign  of  love,  wbicb  is  tbe  beart  of  tbe  divine 
tbeology. 

Annie,  bowever,  bad  a  certain  Scotcbness  in  ber  wbicb  made 
ber  draw  back  from  the  offer. 

"  jSTa,  tbank  ye,  sir,"  sbe  said  ;  "  I  dinna  want  it." 

"  Will  ye  no  tak'  it  to  please  an  auld  man,  bairn  ?  " 

"  Deed  will  I,  sir.  I  wad  do  a  bantle  mair  nor  tbat  to  please 
you." 

And  again  tbe  tears  filled  ber  blue  eyes  as  sbe  beld  out  ber 
band — receiving  in  it  a  shilling  which  Mr  Cowie,  for  more  re- 
lief to  bis  own  burdened  beai't,  had  substituted  for  tbe  sixpence. 

"  It's  a  sbillin',  sir ! "  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  -rtith  tbe 
coin  lying  on  ber  open  palm. 

"  Weel,  what  for  no  ?     Is  a  sbillin'  no  a  saxpence  ?  " 

"Ay,  sir.     It's  twa." 

"  Weel,  Anuie,"  said  the  old  man,  suddenly  elevated  into 
prophecy  for  tbe  child's  need — for  he  had  premeditated  nothing 
of  the  sort — "  maybe  whan  God  offers  us  a  saxpence,  it  may 
turn  oot  to  be  twa.     Good  nicht,  my  bairn." 

But  Mr  Cowie  was  sorely  dissatisfied  with  himself.  For  not 
only  did  be  perceive  that  the  beart  of  the  child  could  not  be 
thus  satisfied,  but  he  began  to  feel  something  new  stirring  in 
bis  own  bosom.  The  fact  was  tliat  Annie  was  further  on  than 
Mr  Cowie.  She  was  a  child  looking  about  to  find  the  face  of 
ber  Father  in  heaven  :  he  was  but  one  of  God's  babies,  who 
bad  been  lying  on  bis  knees,  receiving  contentedly  and  happily 
tbe  good  things  he  gave  him,  but  never  looking  up  to  find  tbe 
eyes  of  him  from  whom  the  good  gifts  came.  And  now  the 
heart  of  the  old  man,  touclied  by  the  motion  of  tbe  child's 
beart — yearning  after  her  Father  in  heaven,  and  yet  scarcely 
believing  that  he  could  be  so  good  as  her  father  on  earth — 
began  to  stir  uneasily  within  him.  And  he  went  down  on  bis 
knees  and  hid  his  face  in  his  hands. 

But  Annie,  though   not  satisfied,  went  awav  comforted. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  123 

After  such  a  day  of  agony  and  humiliation,  Mr  CoTvie's  kiss" 
came  gracious  with  restoration  and  blessing.  It  had  some- 
thing in  it  which  was  not  in  Mr  Browni's  sermon.  And  yet  if 
she  had  gone  to  Mr  Brown,  she  would  have  found  him  kind 
too — very  kind;  but  solemnly  kind — severely  kind;  his  long 
saintly  face  beaming  with  religious  tenderness — not  human 
cordiality  ;  and  his  heart  full  of  interest  in  her  spiritual  condi- 
tion, not  sympathy  with  the  unhappiness  which  his  own  teaching 
had  produced ;  nay,  rather  inclined  to  gloat  over  this  unhappi- 
ness as  the  sign  of  grace  bestowed  and  an  awakening  conscience. 

But  notwithstanding  the  comfort  Mr  Cowie  had  given  her — "" 
the  best  he  had,  poor  man! — xlnnie's  distress  soon  awoke  again. 
To  know  that  she  could  not  be  near  God  in  peace  and  love 
without  fulfilling  certain  mental  conditions — that  he  would  not 
have  her  just  as  she  was  now,  filled  her  with  an  undefined  but 
terribly  real  misery,  only  the  more  distressing  that  it  was  vague 
with  the  vagueness  of  the  dismal  negation  from  which  it  sprung. 

It  was  not  however  the  strength  of  her  love  to  Grod  that 
made  her  unhappy  in  being  thus  bai'red  out  from  him.  It  was 
rather  the  check  thus  given  to  the  whole  upward  tendency  of 
her  being,  with  its  multitude  of  undefined  hopes  and  longings 
now  drawing  nigh  to  the  birth.  It  was  in  her  ideal  self  rather 
than  her  conscious  self  that  her  misery  arose.  And  now, 
dearly  as  she  loved  Mr  Cowie,  she  began  to  doubt  whether  he 
knew  much  about  the  matter.  He  had  put  her  off"  without 
answering  her  questions,  either  because  he  thought  she  had  no 
business  with  such  things,  or  because  he  had  no  answer  to  give. 
This  latter  possibly  added  not  a  little  to  her  unhappiness,  for 
it  gave  birth  to  a  fearful  doubt  as  to  the  final  safety  of  kind 
Mr  Cowie  himself 

But  there  was  one  man  who  knew  more  about  such  secret 
things,  she  fully  believed,  than  any  man  alive ;  and  that  man 
was  Thomas  Crann.  Thomas  was  a  rather  dreadful  man,  with 
his  cold  eyes,  high  shoulders,  and  wheezing  breath  ;  and  Annie 
was  afraid  of  him.  But  she  would  have  encountered  the  ter- 
rors of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death,  as  surely  as  the 
Pilgrim,  to  get  rid  of  the  demon  nightmare  that  lay  upon  her 
bosom,  crushing  the  life  out  of  her  heart.  So  she  plucked  up 
courage,  like  Christian  of  old,  and  resolved  to  set  out  for  the 
house  of  the  Interpreter.  Judging,  however,  that  he  could  not 
yet  be  home  from  his  work,  she  thought  it  better  to  go  home 
herself  first. 

After  eating  a  bit  of  oat  cake,  with  a  mug  of  blue  milk  for 
kitchie  {Latin  "  ohsonium "),  she  retired  to  her  garret  and 
waited  drearily,  but  did  not  try  to  pray. 


124 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

It  was  very  dark  by  the  time  she  left  the  house,  for  the 
night  was  drizzly  ;  but  she  knew  the  windings  of  Glamerton 
almost  as  well  as  the  way  up  her  garret-stair.  Thomas's  door 
was  half  open,  and  a  light  was  shining  from  the  kitchen.  She 
knocked  timidly.  At  the  same  moment  she  heard  the  voice  of 
Thomas  from  the  other  end  of  the  house,  which  consisted  only 
of  a  hut  and  a  ben.  In  the  ben-end  (the  inner  originally,  hence 
better  room)  there  was  no  light :  Thomas  often  sat  in  the  dark. 

"  Jean,  come  ben  to  worship,"  he  cried  roughly. 

"  Comin',  Thamas,"  answered  Jean. 

Again  Annie  knocked,  but  again  without  result.  Her  knock 
was  too  gentle.  After  a  moment's  pause,  dreading  that  the 
intended  prayers  might  interfere  with  lier  project,  she  knocked 
yet  again ;  but  a  second  time  her  knock  was  overwhelmed  in 
the  gruff  call  of  Thomas,  sounding  yet  more  peremptory  than 
before. 

"  Jean,  come  ben  to  worship." 

"  Hoot,  Thamas,  hae  patience,  man.     I  canna  come." 

"  Jean,  come  ben  to  worship  direckly." 

"  I'm  i'  the  mids'  o'  cleanin'  the  shune.  I  hae  dooble  wark 
o'  Mononday,  ye  ken." 

"  The  shune  can  bide." 

"  Worship  can  bide." 

"  Haud  yer  tongue.     The  shune  can  bide." 

"  Na,  na;  they  canna  bide." 

"  Gin  ye  dinna  come  ben  this  minute,  I'll  hae  worship  my 
lane." 

Vanquished  by  the  awful  threat,  Jean  dropped  the  shoe 
she  held,  and  turned  her  apron ;  but  having  to  pass  the  door 
on  her  way  to  the  ben-end,  she  saw  Annie  standing  on  the 
threshold,  and  stopped  with  a  start,  ejaculating : 

"  The  Lord  preserve's,  lassie  !  " 

"  Jean,  what  are  ye  sweerin'  at  ?  "  cried  Thomas,  angrily. 

"  At  Annie  Anderson,"  answered  Jean  simply. 

"  What  for  are  ye  sweerin'  at  her  ?  I'm  sure  she's  a  douce 
lassie.     What  does  the  bairn  want  ?  " 

"  What  do  ye  want,  Annie  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  see  Thomas,  gin  ye  please,"  answered  Annie. 

"  She  wants  to  see  you,  Tliomas,"  screamed  Jean  ;  remark- 
ing in  a  lower  voice,  "  He's  as  deef's  a  door-nail,  Annie 
Anderson." 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX.  125 

"  Lat  her  come  in,  than,"  bawled  Thomas. 

"  He's  tellin'  ye  to  come  in,  Auuie,"  said  Jean,  as  if  she 
had  been  interpreting  his  words.  But  she  detained  her  never- 
theless to  ask  several  unimportant  questions.  At  length  the 
voice  of  Thomas  rousing  her  once  more,  she  hastened  to  intro- 
duce her. 

"  Gang  in  there,  Annie,"  she  said,  throwing  open  the  door 
of  the  dark  room.  The  child  entered  and  stood  just  within  it, 
not  knowing  even  where  Thomas  sat.  But  a  voice  came  to 
her  out  of  the  gloom : 

"  Te're  no  feared  at  the  dark,  are  ve,  Annie  ?     Come  in." 

"I  dinna  ken  whaur  I'm  gaein." 

"  JS'ever  min'  that.    Come  straucht  foret.   I'm  watchin'  ye." 

For  Thomas  had  been  sitting  in  the  dark  till  he  could  see 
in  it  (which,  however,  is  not  an  invariable  result),  while  out  of 
the  little  light  Annie  had  come  into  none  at  all.  But  she 
obeyed  the  voice,  and  went  straight  forward  into  the  dark, 
evidently  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  Thomas,  who  seizing  her 
arm  with  one  hand,  laid  the  other,  horny  and  heavy,  on  her 
head,  saying : 

"  Noo,  my  lass,  ye'll  ken  what  faith  means.  Whan  God 
1?ells  ye  to  gang  into  the  mirk,  gang !  " 

"  But  I  dinna  like  the  mirk,"  said  Annie. 

"  ]S^o  human  sowl  can,''  responded  Thomas.  "  Jean,  fess  a 
can'le  direckly." 

Now  Thomas  was  an  enemy  to  everything  that  could  be, 
justly  or  unjustly,  called  sziperstition  ;  and  this  therefore  was 
not  the  answer  that  might  have  been  expected  of  him.  But  he 
had  begun  with  the  symbolic  and  mystical  in  his  reception  of 
Annie,  and  perhaps  there  was  something  in  the  lovely  childish- 
ness of  her  unconscious  faith  (while  she  all  the  time  thought 
herself  a  dreadful  unbeliever)  that  kept  Thomas  to  the  simpli- 
cities of  the  mystical  part  of  his  nature.  Besides,  Thomas's 
mind  was  a  rendezvous  for  all  extremes.  In  him  they  met,  and 
showed  that  they  met  by  fighting  all  day  long.  If  you  knocked 
at  his  inner  door,  you  never  could  tell  what  would  open  it  to  you 
— all  depending  on  what  happened  to  \)eAtppermost'\\i  the  wrestle. 

The  candle  was  brought  and  set  on  the  table,  showing  two  or 
three  geranium  plants  in  the  window.  Why  her  eyes  should 
have  fixed  upon  these,  Annie  tried  to  discover  afterwards,  when 
she  was  more  used  to  thinking.  But  she  could  not  tell,  except 
it  were  that  they  were  so  scraggy  and  wretched,  half  drowned 
in  the  darkness,  and  half  blanched  by  the  miserable  light,  and 
therefore  must  have  been  very  like  her  own  feelings,  as  she  stood 
before  the  ungentle  but  not  xmkind  stone-mason. 


126  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  "Weel,  lassie,"  said  be,  when  Jean  liad  retired,  "  what  do  ye 
want  wi'  me  ?  " 

Annie  burst  into  tears  again. 

"Jean,  gae  butt  the  boose  direcklj,"  cried  Thomas,  on  the 
mere  chance  of  his  attendant  having  lingered  at  the  door.  And 
the  sound  of  her  retreating  footsteps,  though  managed  with  all 
possible  care,  immediately  justified  his  suspicion.  This  inter- 
ruption turned  Annie's  tears  aside,  and  when  Thomas  spoke 
next,  she  was  able  to  reply. 

"  Noo,  my  bairn,"  he  said,  "  what's  the  maitter?  " 

"  I  was  at  the  missionar  kirk  last  nicht,"  faltered  Annie. 

"  Ay  !  And  the  sermon  took  a  grip  o'  ye  ? — Nae  doot,  nae 
doot.     Ay.  Ay." 

"  I  canna  help  forgettin'  liim,  Thomas." 

"  But  ye  maun  try  and  no  forget  him,  lassie." 

"  Sae  I  do.     But  it's  dour  wark,  and  'maist  impossible." 

"  Sae  it  maun  aye  be ;  to  the  auld  Aidam  impossible  ;  to  the 
young  Christian  a  weary  watch." 

Hope  began  to  dawn  upon  Annie. 

"  A  body  micht  hae  a  chance,"  she  asked  with  meditative 
suggestion,  "  allooin'  'at  she  did  forget  him  whiles  ?  " 

"  Nae  doot,  lassie.  The  nations  that  forget  God  are  them 
that  dinna  care,  that  never  fash  their  beids,  or  their  herts  aither, 
aboot  him — them  that  were  never  called,  never  chosen." 

Annie's  trouble  returned  like  a  sea-wave  that  had  only  re- 
tired to  gather  strength. 

"  But  hoo's  a  body  to  ken  whether  she  he  ane  o'  the  elec'  ?  " 
she  said,  quaking. 

"That's  a  hard  maitter.  It's  no  needfu'  to  ken'taforehan'. 
Jist  lat  that  alane  i'  the  mean  time." 

"  But  I  canna  lat  it  alane.  It's  no  for  mysel'  aither  a'the- 
gither.     Could  ye  lat  it  alane,  Thomas  ?  " 

This  home-thrust  prevented  any  questioning  about  the 
second  clause  of  her  answer.  And  Thomas  dearly  loved  plain 
dealing. 

"  Te  hae  me  there,  lassie.  Xa,  I  cudna  lat  it  alane.  An'  I 
never  did  lat  it  alane.  I  plaguit  the  Lord  nicht  an'  day  till  he 
loot  me  ken." 

"  I  tried  hard  last  nicht,"  said  Annie,  "  but  the  rottans  war 
ower  mony  for  me." 

"  Sawtan  has  mony  wiles,"  saia  the  mason  reflectively. 
"  Do  ye  think  they  warna  rottans  ?  '   asked  Annie. 
"  Ow  !  nae  doot.     I  daursay." 

"'Cause,  gin  1  thocht  they  war  only  deils,  I  wadna  care  a 
buckle  (2)eriivinkle)  for  them." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  127 

"  It's  muekle  the  same  what  ye  ca'  them,  gin  they  ca  you 
frae  the  throne  o'  grace,  lassie." 

"  What  am  I  to  do  than,  Thomas  ?  " 

"Temaunhaud  at  it,  lassie,  jist  as  the  poor  widow  did 
wi'  the  unjust  judge.  An'  gin  the  Lord  hears  ye,  ye'll  ken 
ye're  ane  o'  the  elec',  for  it's  only  his  own  elec'  that  the 
Lord  dis  hear.  Eh  !  lassie,  little  ye  ken  aboot  prayin'  an'  no 
faintin'." 

Alas  for  the  parable  if  Thomas's  theories  were  to  be  carried 
out  in  its  exposition  !  For  they  would  lead  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  Lord  and  the  unjust  judge  were  one  and  the  same  per- 
son. But  it  is  our  divine  aspirations  and  not  our  intellectual 
theories  that  need  to  be  carried  out.  The  latter  may,  nay  must 
in  some  measure,  perish  ;  the  former  will  be  found  in  perfect 
harmony  with  the  divine  Will ;  yea,  true  though  faint  echoes 
of  that  Will — echoes  from  the  unknown  caves  of  our  deepest 
humanity,  where  lies,  yet  swathed  in  darkness,  the  divine 
image. 

To  Thomas's  words  Annie's  only  reply  was  a  fixed  gaze,  which 
he  answered  thus,  resuming  his  last  words  : 

"  Ay,  lassie,  little  ye  ken  aboot  watchin'  and  prayin'.  Whan 
it  pleased  the  Lord  to  call  me,  I  was  stan'in'  my  lane  i'  the 
mids'  o'  a  peat-moss,  luikin'  wast,  whaur  the  sun  had  left  a  reid 
licht  ahin  him,  as  gin  he  had  jist  brunt  oot  o'  the  lift,  an'  hadna 
gane  doon  ava.  An'  it  min'd  me  o'  the  day  o'  jeedgment.  An' 
there  I  steid  and  luikit,  till  the  licht  itsel'  deid  oot,  an'  naething 
was  left  but  a  gray  sky  an'  a  feow  starns  intil't.  An'  the  cloods 
gethered,  an'  the  lift  grew  black  an'  mirk  ;  an'  the  haill  country- 
side vaiuished,  till  I  kent  no  more  aboot  it  than  what  my  twa 
feet  could  answer  for.  An'  I  daurna  muv  for  the  fear  o'  the 
pits  o'  water  an'  the  walleen  (well-eijea — quagmire-springs)  on 
ilka  han'.  The  lee-lang  nicht  I  stood,  or  lay,  or  kneeled  upo' 
my  k-nees,  cryin'  to  the  Lord  for  grace.  I  forgot  a'  aboot 
election,  an'  cried  jist  as  gin  I  could  gar  him  hear  me  by 
haudin'  at  him.  An'  i'  the  mornin',  whan  the  licht  cam',  I 
faund  that  my  face  was  to  the  risin'  sun.  And  I  crap  oot  o' 
the  bog,  an'  hame  to  my  ain  hoose.  An'  ilka  body  'at  I  met  o' 
the  road  took  the  tither  side  o'  't,  and  glowert  at  me  as  gin  I 
had  been  a  ghaist  or  a  warlock.  An'  the  bairns  playin'  aboot 
the  doors  ran  in  like  rabbits  whan  they  got  sicht  o'  me.  An'  I 
begud  to  think  'at  something  fearsome  had  signed  me  for  a  re- 
probate ;  an'  I  jist  closed  my  door,  and  gaed  to  my  bed,  and  loot 
my  wark  stan',for  wha  cud  wark  wi'  damnation  hiugin'  owerhis 
heid  ?  An'  three  days  gaed  ower  me,  that  nothing  passed 
my  lips  but  a  drap  o'  milk  an'  water.     An'  o'  the  fourth  day, 


128  ALEC  FOKBES  OF  HOAVGLEX. 

i'  the  efternoon,  I  gaed  to  my  wark  wi'  my  heid  swiramin' 
and  my  hert  like  to  brak  for  verra  glaidness.  I  icas  ane  o'  the 
chosen. 

"  But  hoo  did  ye  fin'  that  oot,  Thomas  ?  "  asked  Annie, 
trembling. 

"  Weel,  lassie,"  answered  Thomas,  with  solemn  conviction  in 
every  tone,  "  it's  my  firm  belief  that,  say  what  they  like,  there 
is,  and  there  can  be,  but  one  way  o'  comin'  to  the  knowledge  o' 
that  secret." 

"  And  what's  that  ?  "  entreated  Annie,  whose  life  seemed  to 
hang  upon  his  lips. 

"  Jist  this.  Get  a  sicht  o'  the  face  o'  God. — It's  my  belief, 
an'  a'  the  minnisters  in  creation'll  no  gar  me  alter  my  min',  that 
no  man  can  get  a  glimp'  o'  the  face  o'  God  but  ane  o'  the 
chosen.  I'm  no  sayin'  'at  a  man's  no  ane  o'  the  elec'  that  hasna 
had  that  favour  vouchsaufed  to  him  ;  but  this  I  do  say,  that  he 
canna  ken  his  election  wi'oot  that.  Try  ye  to  get  a  sicht  o'  the 
face  o'  God,  lassie  :  syne  ye'll  ken  and  be  at  peace.  Even  Moses 
himsel'  cudna  be  saitisfeed  wi'oot  that." 

"  What  is't  like,  Thomas  ?  "  said  Annie,  with  an  eagerness 
which  awe  made  very  still. 

"  No  words  can  tell  that.  It's  all  in  the  speerit.  "Whan 
ye  see't  ye'll  keu't.     There's  no  fear  o'  mistakin'  that.'''' 

Teacher  and  scholar  were  silent.  Annie  was  the  first  to 
speak.     She  had  gained  her  quest. 

"  Am  I  to  gang  hame  noo,  Thomas  ?  " 

"  Ay,  gang  hame,  lassie,  to  yer  prayers.  But  I  doobt  it's 
dark.     I'll  gang  wi'  ye. — Jean,  my  shune  !  " 

"Xa,  na;  I  could  gang  hame  blinlius,"  remonstrated  Annie. 

"  Hand  yer  tongue.  I'm  gaein  hame  wi'  ye,  bairn. — Jean, 
my  shune  !" 

"  Hoot,  Thamas  !  I've  jist  cleaned  them,"  screeched  Jean 
from  the  kitchen  at  the  second  call. 

"  Fess  thera  here  direckly.  It's  a  jeedgment  on  ye  for  sayin' 
worship  cud  bide  better  nor  the  shune." 

Janet  brought  them  and  put  them  down  sulkily.  In  another 
minute  the  great  shoes,  full  of  nails  half  an  inch  broad,  were  re- 
placed on  the  tired  feet,  and  witli  her  soft  little  hand  clasped  in 
the  great  horny  hand  of  the  stonemason,  Annie  trotted  liome  by 
his  side.  With  Scotch  caution,  Thomas,  as  soon  as  they  entered 
the  shop,  instead  of  taking  leave  of  Annie,  went  up  to  the 
counter,  and  asked  for  an  "  unee  o'  tobawco,"  as  if  his  appearance 
along  with  Annie  were  merely  accidental  ;  while  Annie,  with 
perfect  appreciation  of  the  reticence,  ran  tlu'ough  the  gap  in  the 
counter. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  129 

Slae  was  so  far  comforted  and  so  mucli  tired,  tliat  she  fell 
asleep  at  her  prayers  by  the  bedside.  Presently  she  awoke  in 
terror.  It  was  Pussy  however  that  had  waked  her,  as  she  knew 
by  the  green  eyes  lamping  in  a  corner.  But  she  closed  her 
prayers  rather  abruptly,  clambered  into  bed,  and  was  soon  fast 
asleep. 

And  in  her  sleep  she  dreamed  that  she  stood  in  the  darkness 
of  the  same  peat-moss  which  had  held  Thomas  and  his  prayers 
all  the  night  long.  She  thought  she  was  kept  in  there,  till  she 
should  pray  enough  to  get  herself  out  of  it.  And  she  tried  hard 
to  pray,  but  she  could  not.  And  she  fell  down  in  despair,  beset 
with  the  terrors  of  those  frightful  holes  full  of  black  water  which 
she  had  seen  on  her  way  to  Glamerton.  But  a  hand  came  out 
of  the  darkness,  laid  hold  of  hers,  and  lifting  her  up,  led  her 
through  the  bog.  And  she  dimly  saw  the  form  that  led  her,  and 
it  was  that  of  a  man  who  walked  looking  upon  the  earth.  And 
she  tried  to  see  his  face,  but  she  could  not,  for  he  walked  ever 
a  little  before  her.  And  he  led  her  home  to  the  old  farm.  And 
her  father  came  to  the  door  to  meet  them.  And  he  looked  just 
the  same  as  in  the  old  happy  days,  only  that  his  face  was 
strangel}^  bright.  And  with  the  joy  of  seeing  her  father  she 
awoke  to  a  gentle  sorrow  that  she  had  not  seen  also  the  face  of 
her  deliverer. 

The  next  evening  she  wandered  down  to  George  Macwha's, 
and  found  the  two  boys  at  work.  She  had  no  poetry  to  give 
them,  no  stories  to  tell  them,  no  answer  to  their  questions  as 
to  where  she  had  been  the  night  before.  She  could  only  stand 
in  silence  and  watch  them.  The  skeleton  of  the  boat  grew  be- 
neath their  hands,  but  it  was  on  the  workers  and  not  on  their 
work  that  her  gaze  was  fixed.  For  her  heart  was  burning  within 
her,  and  she  could  hardly  restrain  herself  from  throwing  her 
arms  about  their  necks  and  imploi-ing  them  to  seek  the  face  of 
God.  Oh  !  if  she  only  knew  that  Alec  and  Curly  were  of  the 
elect !  But  they  only  could  find  that  out.  There  was  no  way 
for  her  to  peer  into  that  mystery.  All  she  could  do  was  to  watch 
their  wants,  to  have  the  tool  they  needed  next  ready  to  their 
hand,  to  clear  away  the  spales  from  before  the  busy  plane,  ;ind 
to  lie  in  wait  for  any  chance  of  putting  to  her  little  strength  to 
help.  Perhaps  they  were  not  of  the  elect !  She  would  minister 
to  them  therefore — oh,  how  much  the  more  tenderly  ! 

"  What's  come  ower  Annie  ?  "  said  the  one  to  the  other 
when  she  had  gone. 

But  there  was  no  answer  to  be  found  to  the  question. 
Could  they  have  understood  her  if  she  had  told  them  what  had 
come  over  her  ? 

9 


130 


CHAPTEE  XXX. 

And  so  the  time  went  ou,  slow-paced,  with  its  silent  destinies 
Annie  said  her  prayers,  read  her  Bible,  and  tried  not  to  forget 
God.  Ah  !  could  she  only  have  known  that  God  never  forgot 
her,  whether  she  forgot  him  or  not,  giving  her  sleep  in  her 
dreary  garret,  gladness  even  in  Murdoch  Malison's  school-room, 
and  the  light  of  life  everywhere  !  He  was  now  leading  on  the 
blessed  season  of  spring,  when  the  earth  would  be  almost  heaven 
enough  to  those  who  had  passed  through  the  fierceness  of  the 
winter.  Even  now,  the  winter,  old  and  weary,  was  halting  away 
before  the  sweet  approaches  of  the  spring — a  symbol  of  that 
eternal  spring  before  whose  slow  footsteps  Death  itself,  "  the 
winter  of  our  discontent,"  shall  vanish.  Death  alone  can  die 
everlastingly. 

I  have  been  dilFuse  in  my  account  of  Annie's  first  winter  at 
school,  because  what  impressed  her  should  impress  those  who 
read  her  history.  It  is  her  reflex  of  circumstance,  in  a  great 
measure,  which  makes  that  history.  In  regard  to  this  portion 
of  her  life,  I  have  little  more  to  say  than  that  by  degrees  the 
school  became  less  irksome  to  her ;  that  she  grew  more  interested 
in  her  work  ;  that  some  of  the  reading-books  contained  extracts 
which  she  could  enjoy  ;  and  that  a  taste  for  reading  began  to 
wake  in  her.  If  ever  she  came  to  school  with  her  lesson  unpre- 
pared, it  was  because  some  book  of  travel  or  history  had  had 
attractions  too  strong  for  her.  And  all  that  day  she  would  go 
about  like  a  guilty  thing,  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  downfall  and 
neglected  duty. 

With  Alec  it  was  very  difterent.  He  would  often  find  him- 
self in  a  similar  case  ;  but  the  neglect  would  make  uo  impression 
on  his  conscience  ;  or  if  it  did,  he  would  struggle  hard  to  keep 
down  the  sense  of  dissatisfaction  which  strove  to  rise  within  him, 
and  enjoy  himself  in  spite  of  it. 

Annie,  again,  accepted  such  as  her  doom,  and  went  about 
gently  unhappy,  till  neglect  was  forgotten  in  performance.  Tliere 
is  nothing  that  can  wipe  out  wrong  but  right. 

And  still  she  haunted  George  Macwha's  workshop,  where 
the  boat  soon  began  to  reveal  the  full  grace  of  its  lovely  out- 
lines. Of  all  the  works  of  man's  hands,  except  those  that  be- 
long to  Art,  a  boat  is  the  loveliest,  and,  in  the  old  sense  of  the 
word,  the  UvcVwxt.  AV^iiy  is  this  ?  Is  it  that  it  is  born  between 
AVind  and  Water  ? — AVind  the  father,  ever  casting  himself  into 
multitudinous  shapes  of  invisible  tides,  taking  beauteous  form 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX.  131 

in  the  sweep  of  a  "  lazy-paced  cloud,"  or  embodying  a  transient 
informing  freak  in  the  waterspout,  which  he  draws  into  his  life 
from  the  bosom  of  his  mate ; — Water,  the  mother,  visible  she, 
sweeping  and  swaying,  ever  making  and  ever  unmade,  the  very 
essence  of  her  being — beauty,  yet  having  no  form  of  her  own,  and 
yet  again  manifesting  herself  in  the  ceat^eless  generation  of  pass- 
ing forms  ?  If  the  boat  be  the  daughter  of  these,  the  stable  child 
of  visible  and  invisible  subtlety,  made  to  live  in  both,  and  shape 
its  steady  course  between  their  varying  and  conflicting  forces — 
if  her  Ideal  was  modelled  between  the  flap  of  airy  pinions  and 
the  long  ranging  flow^  of  the  serpent  water,  how  could  the  lines 
of  her  form  fail  of  grace  ? 

Xor  in  this  case  were  the  magic  influences  of  verse  wanting 
to  mould  and  model  a  boat  which  from  prow  to  stern  should  be 
lovely  and  fortunate.     As  Pandemonium 

"  Eose  like  an  exhalation,  with  the  sound 
Of  dulcet  symphonies  and  voices  sweet," 

so  the  little  boat  grew  to  the  sound  of  Annie's  voice  utteriug 
not  Eunic  Khymes,  but  old  Scotch  ballads,  or  such  few  sweet 
English  poems,  of  the  new  revelation,  as  floated  across  her  way, 
and  folded  their  butterfly  wings  in  her  memory. 

I  have  already  said  that  readiug  became  a  great  delight  to 
her.    Mr  Cowie  threw  his  library,  with  very  little  restxiction, 
open  to  her ;  and  books  old  and  new  were  all  new  to  her.     She 
carried  every  fresh  one  home  with  a  sense  of  riches  and  a  feel- 
ing of  upViftedness  which  I  can  ill  describe.     She  gloated  over 
the  thouglit  of  it,  as  she  held  it  tight  in  her  hand,  with  feelings 
resembling,  and  yet  how  unlike,  those  of  Johnny  Bruce  when 
he  crept  uito  his  rabbits'  barrel  to  devour  the  pennyworth  of 
jjhinhy  (a  preparation  of  treacle  and  flour)  which  his  brother 
would  else  have  compelled  him  to  share.     JSI^ow  that  the  days 
were  longer,  she  had  plenty  of  time  to  read ;  for  although  her 
so-called  guardians  made  cutting  remarks  upon  her  idleness, 
they  had  not  yet  compelled  her  to  nursing  or  needlework.     If 
she  had  shown  the  least  inclination  to  either,  her  liberty  would 
have  been  gone  from  that  moment ;  but,  with  the  I'ear  of  James 
Dow  before  their  eyes,  they  let  her  alone.     As  to  her  doing 
anything  in  the  shop,  she  was  far  too  much  of  an  alien  to  be 
allowed  to  minister  in  the  lowliest  ofiice  of  that  sacred  temple 
of  Mammon.     So  she  read  everything  she  could  lay  her  hands 
upon ;  and  as  often  as  she  found  anything  peculiarly  interest- 
ing, she  would  take  the  book  to  the  boat,  where  the  boys  were 
always  ready  to  Hsten  to  whatever  she  brought  them.     And 
this  habit  made  her  more  discerning  and  choice. 


132  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

Before  I  leave  the  school,  however,  I  must  give  one  more 
scene  out  of  its  history. 

One  mid-day  in  spring,  just  as  the  last  of  a  hail-shower  was 
passing  away,  and  a  sickly  sunbeam  was  struggling  out,  the 
schoolroom-door  opened,  and  in  came  Andrew  Trufley,  with  a 
smile  on  his  worn  face,  which  shone  in  touching  harmony  with 
the  w^atery  gleam  of  the  sun  between  the  two  hail-storms — for 
another  was  close  at  hand.  He  swung  himself  in  on  the  new 
pivot  of  his  humanity,  namely  his  crutch,  which  every  one  who 
saw  him  believed  at  once  he  was  never  more  to  go  without,  till 
he  sank  wearied  on  the  road  to  the  grave,  and  had  to  be  carried 
the  rest  of  the  way.  He  looked  very  long  and  deathly,  for  he 
had  grown  much  while  lying  in  bed. 

The  master  rose  hurriedly  from  his  desk,  and  advanced  to 
meet  him.  A  deep  stillness  fell  upon  the  scholai-s.  They 
dropped  all  their  work,  and  gazed  at  the  meeting.  The  master 
held  out  his  hand.  With  awkwardness  aud  difficulty  Andrew 
presented  the  hand  which  had  been  holding  the  crutch ;  and, 
not  yet  thoroughly  used  to  the  management  of  it,  staggered  in 
consequence  and  would  have  fallen.  But  the  master  caught 
him  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  to  his  old  seat  beside  his 
brother. 

"  Thank  ye,  sir,"  said  the  boy  with  another  gleamy  smile, 
through  which  his  thin  features  and  pale,  prominent  eyes  told 
yet  more  plainly  of  sad  suffering — all  the  master's  fault,  as  the 
master  knew. 

"  Leuk  at  the  dominie,"  said  Curly  to  Alec.  "  He's 
greitin'." 

For  Mr  Malison  had  returned  to  his  seat  and  had  laid  his 
head  down  on  the  desk,  evidently  to  hide  his  emotion. 

"Hand  yer  tongue.  Curly.  Diniui  leuk  at  him,"  returned 
Alec.     "He's  sorry  for  poor  Truftey." 

Every  one  behaved  to  the  master  that  day  with  marked  re- 
spect. And  from  that  day  forward  Trufley  was  in  universal 
favour. 

Let  me  once  more  assert  that  Mr  Malison  was  not  a  bad 
man.  The  misfortune  was,  that  his  notion  of  right  fell  in  with 
his  natural  ilerceness ;  and  that,  in  aggravation  of  the  too 
common  feeling  with  which  he  had  commenced  his  relations 
with  his  pupils,  namely,  that  they  were  not  only  the  natural 
enemies  of  the  master,  but  therefore  of  all  law,  theology  had 
come  in  and  taught  him  tliat  they  were  in  their  own  nature 
bad — witli  a  badness  for  which  the  only  set-oft'  he  knew  or  could 
introduce  was  blows.  Independently  of  any  remedial  quality 
that  might  be  in  them,  these  blows  were  an  embodiment  of 


ALEC    FORRES   OF    HOWGLEK,  133 

justice;  for  "every  sin,"  as  the  catechism  teaches,  "deserveth     / 
God's  wrath  and  curse  both  in  this  life  and  that  which  is  to 
come."     The  master  therefore  was  only  a  co-worker  with  God     *> 
in  every  paudy  he  inflicted  on  his  pupils. 

I  do  not  mean  that  he  reasoned  thus,  but  that  such-like 
were  the  principles  he  had  to  act  upon.  And  I  must  add  that, 
with  all  his  brutality,  he  was  never  guilty  of  such  cruelty  as  | 
one  reads  of  occasionally  as  perpetrated  by  English  school- 
masters of  the  present  day.  Nor  were  the  boys  ever  guilty  of 
such  cruelty  to  their  fellows  as  is  not  only  permitted  but  ex- 
cused in  the  public  schools  of  England.  The  taws,  likewise, 
is  a  far  less  cruel  instrument  of  torture  than  the  cane,  which 
was  then  unknown  in  that  region. 

And  now  the  moderation  which  had  at  once  followed  upon 
the  accident  was  confirmed.  Punishment  became  less  frequent 
still,  and  where  it  was  yet  inflicted  for  certain  kiuds  and 
degrees  of  ofience,  its  administration  was  considerably  less 
severe  than  formerly ;  till  at  length  the  boys  said  that  the 
master  never  put  on  black  stockiugs  now,  except  when  he  was 
"  oot  o'  white  anes."  JN'or  did  the  discipline  of  the  school  suffer 
in  consequence.  If  one  wants  to  make  a  hard-mouthed  horse 
more  responsive  to  the  rein,  he  must  relax  the  pressure  and 
friction  of  the  bit,  and  make  the  horse  feel  that  he  has  got  to 
hold  up  his  own  head.  If  the  rider  supports  himself  by  the 
reins,  the  horse  will  pull. 

But  the  marvel  was  to  see  how  Andrew  Truff'ey  haunted 
and  dogged  the  master.  He  was  as  it  were  a  conscious  shadow 
to  him.  There  was  no  hour  of  a  holiday  in  which  Truffey 
could  not  tell  precisely  where  the  master  was.  If  one  caught  i 
sight  of  Andrew,  Jiirpling  down  a  passage,  or  leaning  against  a  Ny' 
corner,  he  might  be  sure  the  master  would  pass  within  a  few 
minutes.  And  the  haunting  of  little  Truff'ey  worked  so  on  his  "^ 
conscience,  that,  if  the  better  nature  of  him  had  not  asserted 
itself  in  love  to  the  child,  he  would  have  been  compelled  to 
leave  the  place.  Eor  think  of  having  a  visible  sin  of  your  own, 
in  the  shape  of  a  lame-legged  boy,  peeping  at  you  round  every 
other  corner ! 

But  he  did  learn  to  love  the  boy ;  and  therein  appeared  the 
divine  vengeance — ah  !  how  diff'erent  from  human  vengeance  ! — 
that  the  outbreak  of  unrighteous  wrath  reacted  on  the  wrong- 
doer in  shame,  repentance,  and  love. 


y 


I'H 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

At  length  the  boat  -^as  calked,  tarred,  and  painted. 

One  evening  as  Annie  entered  the  workshop,  she  heard 
Curlv  crv, 

"Here  she  is.  Alec!" 
and  Alec  answer, 

"  Let  her  come.     I'm  just  done." 

Alec  stood  at  the  stern  of  the  boat,  with  a  pot  in  one  hand, 
and  a  paint-brush  in  the  other ;  and,  when  Annie  came  near, 
she  discovered  to  her  surprise,  and  not  a  little  to  her  delight, 
that  he  was  just  finishing  ofi"  the  last   E   of   "  the   bo>'>'IE 

"  There,"  said  he,  "  that's  her  name.  Hoo  de  ye  like  it, 
Annie?" 

Annie  was  too  much  pleased  to  reply.  She  looked  at  it  for 
a  while  with  a  flush  on  her  face  :  and  then  turning  away,  sought 
her  usual  seat  on  the  heap  of  spales. 

How  much  that  one  winter,  with  its  dragons  and  its  heroes, 
its  boat-building  and  its  rhymes,  its  discomforts  at  home  and 
its  consolations  abroad,  its  threats  of  future  loss,  and  comforts 
of  present  hope,  had  done  to  make  the  wild  country  child  into 
a  thoughtful  little  woman  I 

Xow  who  should  come  into  the  shop  at  the  moment  but 
Thomas  Crann  I — the  very  man  of  all  men  not  to  be  desired  on 
the  occasion  ;  for  the  boys  had  contemplated  a  certain  ceremony 
of  christening,  which  they  dared  not  carry  out  in  the  presence 
of  the  stone-mason ;  without  which,  however,  George  Macwha 
•was  very  doubtful  whether  the  little  craft  would  prove  a  lucky 
one. — By  common  understanding  they  made  no  allusion  to  the 
matter,  thus  postponing  it  for  the  present. 

"Ay!  ay!  Alec,"  said  Thomas;  "  sae  yer  boat's  bigget  at 
last!" 

He  stood  contemplating  it  for  a  moment,  not  without  some 
hardly  perceptible  signs  of  admiration,  and  then  said  : 

"  Gin  ye  had  her  oot  upon  a  muckle  water,  do  ye  think  ye 
wad  jump  oot  ower  the  side  o'  her,  gin  the  Saviour  tauld  ye, 
Alec  Forbes  ?  " 

"Ay  wad  I,  gin  I  war  richt  sure  he  wantit  me." 

"  Ye  wad  stan'  an'  parley  wi'  him,  nae  doot  ?  " 

"  I  bude  {behoved)  to  be  richt  sure  it  was  his  ain  sel',  ye 
ken,  an'  that  he  did  call  me." 

"  Ow  ay,  laddie!     That's  a'  richt.     Weel,  I  houp  ye  wad. 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HQWGI.EN.  135 

I  are  had  guid  boups  o'  ye,  Alec,  my  man.  But  there  may  be 
sic  a  thing  as  loupin'  into  the  sea  o'  life  oot  o'  the  ark  o'  sal- 
vation ;  an'  gin  ve  loup  in  whan  he  doesna  call  ye.  or  gin  ye 
getna  a  grip  o'  his  han',  whan  he  does,  ye're  sure  to  droon,  as 
sure's  ane  o'  the  swine  that  ran  heedlong  in  and  perished  i' 
the  water." 

Alec  had  only  a  dim  sense  of  his  meaning,  hut  he  had  faith 
that  it  was  good,  and  so  listened  in  respectful  silence.  Sui-ely 
enough  of  sacred  as  well  as  lovely  sound  had  been  uttered  over 
the  boat  to  make  her  faithful  and  fortunate  ! 

The  hour  arrived  at  length  when  The  Bonnie  Annie  was  to 
be  launched.  It  was  one  of  a  bright  Saturday  afternoon,  in 
the  month  of  May,  full  of  a  kind  of  tearful  light,  which  seemed 
to  say :  "  Here  1  am,  but  I  go  to-morrow  !"  Tet  though  there 
might  be  plenty  of  cold  weather  to  come,  though  the  hail  might 
fall  in  cart-loads,  and  the  snow  might  lie  thick  for  a  day  or 
two,  there  would  be  no  more  frozen  waters,  and  the  boughs 
would  be  bare  and  desolate  no  more.  A  few  late  primroses 
were  peeping  from  the  hollows  damp  with  moss  and  shadow 
along  the  banks,  and  the  trees  by  the  stream  were  in  small 
young  leaf.  There  was  a  light  wind  full  of  memories  of  past 
summers  and  promises  for  the  new  one  at  hand,  one  of  those 
gentle  winds  that  blow  the  eyes  of  the  flowers  open,  that  the 
earth  mav  look  at  the  heaven.  In  the  midst  of  this  baby- 
waking  of  the  world,  the  boat  must  glide  into  her  new  life. 

Alec  got  one  of  the  men  on  the  farm  to  i/okea  hoise  to  bring 
the  boat  to  the  river,  ^'ith  the  help  of  George  she  was  soon 
placed  in  the  cart,  and  Alec  and  Curly  got  in  beside  her.  The 
little  creature  looked  very  much  like  a  dead  fish,  as  she  lay 
jolting  in  the  hot  sun,  with  a  motion  irksome  to  her  delicate 
sides,  her  prow  sticking  awkwardly  over  the  horse's  back,  and 
her  stern  projecting  as  far  beyond  the  cart  behind.  Thus  often 
is  the  hu.Taan  boat  borne  painfully  to  the  stream  on  which 
thereafter  it  shall  glide  contentedly  through  and  out  of  the 
world. 

When  they  had  got  about  half-way,  Alec  said  to  Curly : 

"  I  wonner  what's  come  o'  Annie,  Curly  ?  It  wad  be  a 
shame  to  lainch  the  boat  wantin'  her." 

'•  Deed  it  wad.  I  s'  jist  rin  and  luik  after  her,  an'  ye  can 
Imk  efter  the  boat." 

So  saying,  Curly  was  out  of  the  cart  with  a  bound.  Away 
he  ran  over  a  field  of  potatoes,  straight  as  the  crow  flies,  while 
the  cart  went  slowly  on  towards  the  Glamour. 

"  AVhaur's  Annie  Anderson  ?  "  he  cried,  as  he  burst  into 
Eobert  Bruce'3  shop. 


136  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  What's  your  business  ?  "  asked  the  Bruce — a  question 
wliich  evidently  looked  for  no  answer. 

"  Alec  wants  her." 

"  Weel,  he  will  want  her,"  retorted  Eobert,  shutting  his 
jaws  with  a  snap,  and  grinning  a  smileless  grin  from  ear  to  ear, 
like  the  steel  clasp  of  a  purse.  By  such  petty  behaviour  he 
had  long  ago  put  himself  on  an  equality  with  the  young  rascals 
generally,  and  he  was  no  match  for  them  on  their  own  level. 

Curly  left  the  shop  at  once,  and  went  round  by  tlie  close 
into  the  garden,  where  he  found  Annie  loitering  up  and  down 
with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  and  looking  very  weary.  This  was 
in  fact  the  first  time  she  had  had  to  carry  the  baby,  and  it 
fatigued  her  dreadfully.  Till  now  Mrs  Bruce  had  had  the 
assistance  of  a  ragged  child,  whose  father  owed  them  money 
for  groceries;  he  could  not  pay  it,  and  they  had  taken  his 
daughter  instead.  Long  ago,  however,  she  had  slaved  it  out, 
and  had  at  length  gone  back  to  school.  The  sun  was  hot,  tiie 
baby  was  heavy,  and  Annie  felt  all  arms  and  back — they  were 
aching  so  with  the  unaccustomed  drudgery.  She  was  all  but 
crying  when  Curly  darted  to  the  gate,  his  face  glowing  with 
his  run,  and  his  eyes  sparkling  with  excitement. 

"  Come,  Annie,"  cried  he ;  "  we're  gaein'  to  luinch  the 
boat." 

"I  canna.  Curly;  I  hae  the  bairn  to  min'." 

"  Tak  the  bairn  in  til  'ts  mither." 

"  I  daurna." 

"  Lay't  doon  o'  the  table,  an'  rin." 

"  Na,  na.  Curly  ;  I  cudna  do  that.     Puir  little  crater !  " 

"  Is  the  beastie  heavy  ? "  asked  Curly,  with  deceitful 
interest. 

"  Dreadfu'." 

"  Lat's  try." 

"  Ye'll  lat  her  fa'." 

"  Deed  no.  I'm  no  sae  fusiouless  {pithless).  Gie's  a  hand 
o'  her." 

Annie  yielded  her  charge  ;  but  no  sooner  had  Curly  posses- 
sion of  the  baby,  than  he  bounded  away  with  her  out  of  the 
garden  into  the  back  yard  adjoining  the  house.  Now  in  this 
yard,  just  opposite  the  kitchen-window,  there  was  a  huge 
sugar-cask,  which,  having  been  converted  into  a  resei'voir,  stood 
under  a  spout,  and  was  at  this  moment  half  full  of  rain-water. 
Curly,  having  first  satisfied  himself  that  Mrs  Bruce  was  at 
work  in  the  kitchen,  and  therefore  sure  to  see  him,  mounted 
a  big  stone  that  lay  beside  the  barrel,  and  pretended  to  lower 
the  baby  into  the  water,  as  if  trying  how  much  she  would 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX.  137 

endure  with  equanimity.  In  a  moment,  he  received  such  a 
box  on  the  ear  that,  had  he  not  been  prepared  for  it,  he  would 
in  reality"  have  dropped  the  child  into  the  barrel.  The  same 
moment  the  baby  was  in  its  mother's  arms,  and  Curly  sitting 
at  the  foot  of  the  barrel,  nursing  his  head,  and  pretending  to 
suppress  a  violent  attack  of  weeping.  The  angry  mother  sped 
into  the  house  with  her  rescued  child. 

'No  sooner  had  she  disappeared  than  Curly  was  on  his  feet 
scudding  back  to  Annie,  who  had  been  staring  over  the  garden- 
gate  in  utter  bewilderment  at  his  behaviour.  She  could  no 
longer  resist  his  entreaties :  off  she  ran  with  him  to  the  banks 
of  the  Grlamour,  where  they  soon  came  upon  Alec  and  the  man 
in  the  act  of  putting  the  boat  on  the  slip,  which,  in  the  present 
instance,  was  a  groove  hollowed  out  of  a  low  part  of  the  bank, 
so  that  she  might  glide  in  more  gradually. 

'•  Hurrah  !  There's  Annie  !  "  cried  Alec. — "  Come  awa', 
Annie.  Here's  a  glass  o'  whisky  I  got  frae  my  mither  to 
kirsten  the  boat.     Fling't  at  the  name  o'  her." 

Annie  did  as  she  was  desired,  to  the  perfect  satisfaction  of 
all  present,  particularly  of  the  long,  spare,  sinewy  farm-servant, 
who  had  contrived,  when  Alec's  back  was  turned,  to  swallow 
the  whisky  and  substitute  Glamour  water,  ^\hich  no  doubt  did 
equally  well  for  the  purposes  of  the  ceremony.  Then  with  a 
gentle  push  from  all,  the  Bonine  Annie  slid  into  the  Glamour, 
where  she  lay  afloat  in  contented  grace,  as  unlike  herself  in  the 
cart  as  a  swan  waddling  wearily  to  the  water  is  unlike  the  true 
swan-self  when  her  legs  have  no  longer  to  support  her  weight, 
but  to  oar  her  along  through  the  friendly  upholding  element. 

"  Isna  she  bonnie  ?  "  cried  Annie  in  delight. 

And  indeed  she  was  bonnie,  in  her  green  and  white  paint, 
lying  like  a  great  water-beetle  ready  to  scamper  over  the 
smooth  surface.  Alec  sprang  on  board,  nearly  upsetting  the 
tiny  craft.  Then  he  held  it  by  a  bush  on  the  bank  while  Curly 
handed  in  Annie,  who  sat  down  in  the  stern.  Curly  then  got 
in  himself,  and  Alec  and  him  seized  each  an  oar. 

But  what  with  their  inexperience  and  the  nature  of  the 
channel,  they  found  it  hard  to  get  along.  The  river  was  full  of 
great  stones,  making  narrow  passages,  so  that,  in  some  parts,  it 
was  not  possible  to  row.  They  knew  nothing  about  the  man- 
agement of  a  boat,  and  were  no  more  at  ease  than  if  they  had 
been  afloat  in  a  tub.  Alec  being  stronger  in  the  arms  than 
Curly,  they  went  round  and  round  for  some  time,  as  if  in  a 
whirlpool,  with  a  timeless  and  grotesque  spluttering  and  sprawl- 
ing. At  last  they  gave  it  up  in  weariness,  and  allowed  the 
Bonnie  Annie  to  float  along  the  stream,  taking  care  only  to 


138  ALTilC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

keep  her  oiF  the  rocks.  Past  them  went  the  banks — here  steep 
and  stony,  but  green  with  moss  where  little  trickling  streams 
found  their  way  into  the  channel ;  there  spreading  into  low 
alluvial  shores,  covered  with  lovely  grass,  starred  with  daisies 
and  buttercups,  from  which  here  and  there  rose  a  willow,  whose 
low  boughs  swept  the  water.  A  little  while  ago,  they  had 
skated  down  its  frozen  surface,  and  had  seen  a  snowy  land 
shooting  past  them ;  now  with  an  unfelt  gliding,  they  floated 
down,  and  the  green  meadows  dreamed  away  as  if  they  would 
dream  past  them  for  ever. — Suddenly,  as  they  rounded  the 
corner  of  a  rock,  a  great  roar  of  falling  water  burst  on  their 
ears,  and  they  started  in  dismay, 

"  The  sluice  is  up  !  "  cried  Alec.  "  Tak'  to  yer  oar,  Curly." 
Along  this  part  of  the  bank,  some  twenty  feet  above  thera, 
ran  a  mill-race,  which  a  few  yards  lower  down  communicated 
by  means  of  a  sluice  with  the  river.  This  sluice  was  now  open, 
for,  from  the  late  rains,  there  was  too  much  water ;  and  the 
surplus  rushed  from  the  race  into  the  Griamour  in  a  foaming 
cataract.  Annie  seeing  that  the  boys  were  uneasy,  got  very 
frightened,  and,  closing  her  eyes,  sat  motionless.  Louder  and 
louder  grew  the  tumult  of  the  waters,  till  their  sound  seemed 
to  fall  in  a  solid  thunder  on  her  brain.  The  boys  tried  hard  to 
row  against  the  stream,  but  without  avail.  Slowly  and  surely 
it  carried  them  down  into  the  very  heart  of  the  boiling  fall ; 
for  on  this  side  alone  was  the  channel  depr)  enough  for  the 
boat,  and  the  banks  were  too  steep  and  bart  .o  afford  any  hold. 
At  last,  the  boat  drifting  stern  foremost,  a  torrent  of  water 
struck  Annie,  and  tumbled  into  the  boat  as  if  it  would  beat  out 
the  bottom  of  it.  Annie  was  tossed  about  in  fierce  waters,  and 
ceased  to  know  anything.  AVhen  she  came  to  herself,  she  was 
in  an  unknown  bed,  with  the  face  of  Mrs  Forbes  bending 
anxiously  over  her.  She  would  have  risen,  but  Mrs  Forbes 
told  her  to  lie  still,  which  indeed  Annie  found  much  more 
pleasant. 

As  soon  as  they  got  under  the  fall  the  boat  had  filled  and 
foundered.  Alec  and  Curly  could  swim  like  otters,  and  were 
out  of  the  pool  at  once.  As  they  went  down.  Alec  liad  made  a 
plunge  to  lay  hold  of  Annie,  but  had  missed  her.  The  moment 
he  got  his  breath,  he  swam  again  into  the  boiling  pool,  dived, 
and  got  hold  of  her  ;  but  he  was  so  stupefied  by  the  force  of 
the  water  Jailing  upon  him  and  beating  him  down,  that  he 
could  not  get  out  of  the  raging  depth — for  here  the  water  was 
many  feet  deep — and  as  he  would  not  leave  his  hold  of  Annie, 
was  in  danger  of  being  drowned.  Meantime  Curly  had 
scrambled  on  shore  and  climbed  up  to  the  mill-race,  where  be 


ALEC    FOK.BES     OF    HOWGLEN.  139 

stut  down  the  sluice  hard.  In  a  moment  the  tumult  had 
ceased,  and  Alec  and  Annie  were  in  still  water.  In  a  moment 
more  he  had  her  on  the  bank,  apparently  lifeless,  whence  he 
carried  her  home  to  his  mother  in  terror.  She  immediately 
resorted  to  one  or  two  of  the  usual  restoratives,  and  was 
presently  successful. 

As  soon  as  she  had  opened  her  eyes,  Alec  and  Curly  hurried 
off  to  get  out  their  boat.  They  met  the  miller  in  an  awful 
rage ;  for  the  sudden  onset  of  twice  the  quantity  of  water  on 
his  overshot  wheel,  had  set  his  machinery  off  as  if  it  had  been 
bewitched,  and  one  old  stone,  Avhich  had  lost  its  iron  girdle, 
had  flown  in  pieces,  to  the  frightful  danger  of  the  miller  and 
his  men. 

"  Te  ill-designed  villains !  "  cried  he  at  a  venture,  "  what 
gart  ye  close  the  sluice  ?  Is'  learn  ye  to  min'  what  ye're 
aboot.     Deil  tak'  ye  for  rascals  !  " 

And  he  seized  one  in  each  brawny  hand. 

"  Annie  Anderson  was  droonin'  aneath  the  waste-water," 
answered  Curly  promptly. 

"  The  Lord  preserve  's !  "  said  the  miller,  relaxing  his  hold. 
"  Hoo  was  that  ?     Did  she  fa'  in  ?  " 

The  boys  told  him  the  whole  story.  In  a  few  minutes  more 
the  back-fall  was  again  turned  off,  and  the  miller  was  helping 
them  to  get  their  boat  out.  The  Bonnie  Annie  was  found  un- 
injured. Only  the  oars  and  stretchers  had  floated  dow^n  the 
stream,  and  were  never  heard  of  again. 

Alec  had  a  terrible  scolding  from  his  mother  for  getting 
Annie  into  such  mischief.  Indeed  Mrs  Forbes  did  not  like  the 
girl's  being  so  much  with  her  son  ;  but  she  comforted  herself 
with  the  probability  that  by  and  by  Alec  would  go  to  college, 
and  forget  her.  Meantime,  she  was  very  kind  to  Annie,  and 
took  her  home  herself,  in  order  to  excuse  her  absence,  the 
blame  of  which  she  laid  entirely  on  Alec,  not  knowing  that 
thereby  she  greatly  aggravated  any  off'ence  of  which  Annie 
might  have  been  guilty.  Mrs  Bruce  solemnly  declared  her 
conviction  that  a  judgment  had  fallen  upon  her  for  "Willie 
Macwha's  treatment  of  her  baby. 

"  Gin  I  hadna  jist  gotten  a  glimp  o'  him  in  time,  he  wad 
hae  drooned  the  bonny  infant  afore  my  verra  een.  It's  weei 
w'aured  on  them  !  " 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  a  wet  skin  was  so  very  moder- 
ate a  punishment  for  child-murder,  that  possibly  there  had 
been  no  connection  between  them. 

This  first  voyage  of  the  Bonnie  Annie  may  seem  a  bad 
beginning ;  but  I  am  not  sure  that  most  good  ends  have  not 


140  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

had  sucli  a  bad  begiuuing.  Perhaps  the  world  itself  may  be 
received  as  a  case  iu  point.  Alec  and  Cuidj  went  about  for  a 
few  days  with  a  rather  subdued  expression.  But  as  soon  as  the 
boat  was  refitted,  they  got  Greorge  Macwha  to  go  with  them 
for  cockswain  ;  and  under  his  instructions,  they  made  rapid 
progress  in  rowing  and  sculling.  Then  Annie  was  again  their 
companion,  and,  the  boat  being  by  this  time  fitted  with  a  rud- 
der, had  several  lessons  in  steering,  in  which  she  soon  became 
proficient.  Many  a  moonlight  row  they  had  on  the  Glamour ; 
and  many  a  night  after  Curly  and  Annie  had  gone  home,  would 
Alec  again  unmoor  the  boat,  and  drop  down  the  water  alone, 
letting  the  banks  go  dreaming  past  him— not  alwa3"s  sure  that 
he  was  not  dreaming  himself,  and  would  not  suddenly  awake 
and  find  himself  in  his  bed,  and  not  afloat  between  heaven  and 
earth,  with  the  moon  above  and  the  moon  below  him.  I  think 
it  was  in  these  seasons  that  he  began  first  to  become  aware  of 
a  certain  stillness  pervading  the  universe  like  a  law  ;  a  stillness 
ever  being  broken  by  the  cries  of  eager  men,  yet  ever  closing 
and  retiirning  with  gentleness  not  to  be  repelled,  seeking  to  in- 
fold and  penetrate  with  its  own  healing  the  minds  of  the  noisy 
children  of  the  earth.  But  he  paid  little  heed  to  the  discovery 
then,  for  he  was  made  for  activity,  and  in  activity  he  found  his 
repose. 


CHAPTER   XXXII, 


My  story  must  have  shown  already  that,  although  several 
years  younger  than  Alec,  Annie  had  much  more  character  and 
personality  than  he.  Alec  had  not  yet  begun  to  look  realities 
in  the  face.  The  very  nobility  and  fearlessness  of  his  nature 
had  preserved  him  from  many  such  actions  as  give  occasion  for 
looking  within  and  asking  oneself  whereto  things  are  tending. 
Full  of  life  and  restless  impulses  to  activity,  all  that  could 
properly  be  required  of  him  as  yet  was  that  the  action  into 
which  he  rushed  should  be  innocent,  and  if  conventionally  mis- 
chievous, yet  actvudly  luirmless.  Annie,  comfortless  at  home, 
gazing  all  about  her  to  see  if  there  was  a  rest  anywhere  for  lier, 
had  been  driven  by  the  outward  desolation  away  from  the 
window  of  the  world  to  that  other  window  that  opens  on  the 
regions  of  silent  beinfx  where  God  is,  and  inio  wliit-h  when  his 
creatures  enter,  or  even  look,  the  fountain  of  their  lii'e  >prings 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  141 

aloft  witli  tenfold  vigour  and  beauty.  Alec,  whose  home  was 
happy,  knew  nothing  of  that  sense  of  discomfort  which  is 
sometimes  the  herald  of  a  greater  need.  But  he  was  soon  to 
take  a  new  start  in  his  intellectual  relations  ;  nor  in  those  alone, 
seeing  the  change  was  the  result  of  a  dim  sense  of  duty.  The 
fact  of  his  not  being  a  scholar  to  the  mind  of  Murdoch  Malison, 
arose  from  no  deficiency  of  intellectual  power,  but  only  of  intel- 
lectual capacity— ^ov  the  indefinite  enlargement  of  which  a 
fitting  excitement  from  without  is  alone  requisite. 

The  season  went  on,  and  the  world,  like  a  great  flower 
afloat  in  space,  kept  opening  its  thousandfold  blossom.  Hail 
and  sleet  were  things  lost  in  the  distance  of  the  year — storming 
away  in  some  far-off  region  of  the  north,  unknown  to  the  sum- 
mer generation.  The  butterflies,  with  wings  looking  as  if  all 
the  flower-painters  of  fairyland  had  wiped  their  brushes  upon 
them  in  freak ful  yet  artistic  sport,  came  forth  in  the  freedom  of 
their  wills  and  the  faithful  ignorance  of  their  minds.  The 
birds,  the  poets  of  the  animal  creation  —  what  though  they 
never  get  beyond  the  lyrical!- — awoke  to  utter  their  own  joy,  and 
awake  like  joy  in  others  of  God's  children.  The  birds  grew 
silent,  because  their  history  laid  hold  upon  them,  compelling 
them  to  turn  their  words  into  deeds,  and  keep  eggs  warm,  and 
hunt  for  worms.  The  butterflies  died  of  old  age  and  delight. 
The  green  life  of  the  earth  rushed  up  in  corn  to  be  ready  for 
the  time  of  need.  The  corn  grew  ripe,  and  therefore  weary, 
hung  its  head,  died,  and  was  laid  aside  for  a  life  beyond  its  own. 
Tlie  keen  sharp  old  mornings  and  nights  of  autumn  came  back 
as  they  had  come  so  many  thousand  times  before,  and  made 
human  limbs  strong  and  human  hearts  sad  and  longing.  AV^iu- 
ter  would  soon  be  near  enough  to  stretch  out  a  long  forefinger 
ouce  more,  and  touch  with  the  first  frosty  shiver  some  little 
child  that  loved  summer,  and  shrunk  from  the  cold. 

One  evening  in  early  autumn,  when  the  sun,  almost  on  the 
edge  of  the  horizon,  was  shining  right  in  at  the  end  of  one  of 
the  principal  streets,  filling  its  whole  width  with  its  glory  of 
molten  roses,  all  the  shopkeepers  were  standing  in  their  doors. 
Little  groups  of  country  people,  bearing  a  curious  relation  to 
their  own  legs,  were  going  in  various  directions  across  the 
square.  Loud  laughter,  very  much  like  animal  noises,  now  and 
then  invaded  the  ear  ;  but  the  sound  only  rippled  the  wide  lake 
of  the  silence.  The  air  was  perfumed  with  the  scent  of  peat 
fires  and  the  burning  of  weeds  and  potato-tops.  There  was 
no  fountain  to  complete  the  harmony,  but  the  intermittent' 
gushes  from  the  spout  of  the  great  pump  in  the  centre  of  the 
square  were  no  bad  substitute.     At  all  events,  they  supplied 


142  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

the  sound  of  water,  without  which  Nature's  orcliestra  is  not 
full. 

Wattie  Sim,  the  watchmaker,  long  and  lank,  with  gre}  bushy 
eyebrows  meeting  over  his  nose,  wandered,  with  the  gait  of  a 
heedless  pair  of  compasses,  across  from  his  own  shop  to  Eedford 
the  bookseller's,  at  whose  door  a  small  group  was  already 
gathered. 

"  Well,  Wattie,"  said  Captain  Clashmach,  "  how  goes  the 
world  with  you  ?  " 

"Muckle  the  same's  wi'  yersel'.  Captain,  and  the  doctor 
there,"  answered  Wattie  with  a  grin.  "  Whan  the  time's  guid 
for  ither  fowk,  it's  but  sae  sae  for  you  and  me.  I  haena  had 
a  watch  come  in  for  a  haill  ook  (tree/;)." 

"  Hoo  de  ye  accoont  for  that,  Mr  Sim  ?  "  asked  a  shoemaker 
who  stood  near  without  belonging  to  the  group. 

"  It's  the  ile,  man,  the  ile.  Half  the  mischeef  o'  watches  is 
the  ile." 

"  But  I  don't  see,"  said  the  doctor,  "  how  that  can  be,  Sim." 

"  Weel,  ye  see,  sir,"  answered  Wattie  —  and  the  words 
seemed  somehow  to  have  come  tumbling  silently  down  over  the 
ridge  of  his  nose,  before  he  caught  them  in  his  mouth  and  arti- 
culated them — "ye  see,  sir,  watches  is  delicat  things.  They're 
not  to  be  traitet  like  fowk's  insides  wi'  onything  'at  comes 
first.  Gin  I  cud  jist  get  the  middle  half-pint  oot  o'  the  hert  o' 
a  hogsheid  o'  sperm  ile,  I  wad  1  sud  keep  a'  yer  watches  gaein 
like  the  verra  universe.  But  it  wad  be  an  ill  thing  for  me,  ye 
ken.  Sae  maybe  a'  thing's  for  the  best  efter  a'. — JSoo,  ye  see, 
i'  this  het  weather,  the  ile  keeps  fine  an'  saft,  and  disna  clog  the 
warks. — But  losh  preserves  a' !     What's  that  ?  " 

Staring  up  the  street  towards  the  sunset,  wliich  coloured 
all  their  faces  a  red  bronze,  stood  a  group  of  townsfolk,  mo- 
mently increasing,  from  which,  before  Wattle's  party  could 
reach  it,  burst  a  general  explosion  of  laughter.  It  was  some 
moments,  however,  before  they  understood  what  was  the  matter, 
for  the  great  mild  sun  shone  full  in  their  eyes.  At  length  they 
saw,  as  if  issuing  from  the  huge  heavy  orb,  a  long  dark  line, 
like  a  sca-serpeut  of  a  hundred  joints,  coming  down  the  street 
towards  them,  and  soon  discovered  that  it  was  a  slow  procession 
of  animals.  First  came  Mistress  Stephen,  Stumpin  Steenie 
the  policeman's  cow,  with  her  tail  at  full  stretch  behind  her. 
To  the  end  of  her  tail  was  tied  the  nose  of  Jeames  Joss  the 
cadger's  horse — a  gaunt  sepulchral  animal,  wliich  age  and  ill- 
treatment  had  taught  to  move  as  if  knees  and  hocks  were  use- 
less refinements  in  locomotion.  He  had  just  enough  of  a  tail 
left  to  tie  the  nose  of  another  cow  to;  and  so,  by  the  accretion 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  14S 

of  living  joints,  the  strange  monster  lengthened  out  into  the 
dim  fiery  distance. 

When  Mrs  Stephen  reached  the  square,  she  turned  to  lead 
her  tmin  diagonally  across  it,  for  in  that  direction  lay  her  home. 
Moved  by  the  same  desire,  the  cadger's  horse  wanted  to  go  in 
exactly  the  opposite  direction.  The  covi^  pulled  the  one  way, 
and  the  horse  pulled  the  other;  but  the  cow, having  her  head  free, 
had  this  advantage  over  the  horse,  which  was  fast  at  both  ends. 
So  he  gave  in,  and  followed  his  less  noble  leader.  Cow  after 
horse,  and  horse  after  cow,  with  a  majority  of  cows,  followed,  to 
the  number  of  twenty  or  so ;  after  which  the  joints  began  to 
diminish  in  size.  Two  calves  were  at  the  tail  of  the  last  cow, 
a  little  Highland  one,  with  a  sheep  between  them.  Then  came 
a  goat  belonging  to  Charles  Chapman  the  wool-carder,  the  only 
goat  in  the  place,  which  as  often  as  the  strain  on  his  own  tail 
slackened,  made  a  butt  at  that  of  the  calf  in  front  of  him. 
Next  came  a  diminishing  string  of  disreputable  dogs,  to  the  tail 
of  the  last  of  which  was  fastened  the  only  cat  the  inventors  of 
this  novel  pastime  had  been  able  to  catch.  At  her  tail  followed 
• — alas  ! — Andrew  Truffey's  white  rabbit,  whose  pink  eyes,  now 
fixed  and  glazed,  would  no  more  delight  the  imagination  of  tlie 
poor  cripple;  and  whose  long  furry  hind  legs  would  nevermore 
bang  the  ground  in  sovereign  contempt,  as  he  dared  pursuit ; 
for  the  dull  little  beast,  having,  wnth  the  stitiueckedness  of  fear, 
persisted  in  pulling  against  the  string  that  tied  him  to  the  tail 
of  Widow  AVattles's  great  tom-cat,  was  now  trailed  ignomini- 
ously  upon  his  side,  with  soiled  fur  and  outstretched  neck — 
the  last  joint,  and  only  dead  one,  of  this  bodiless  tail. 

Before  Mistress  Stephen  had  reached  her  home,  and  just  as 
the  last  link  of  the  chain  had  appeared  on  the  square,  the  mirth 
was  raised  to  a  yet  higher  pitch  by  the  sudden  rush  of  several 
women  to  the  rescue,  who  had  already  heard  the  news  of  the 
ignominious  abduction  of  their  honoured  kye,  and  their  shame- 
ful exposure  to  public  ridicule.  Each  made  for  her  own  four- 
footed  property. 

"  G-uid  preserve's,  Hawkie !  are  ye  come  to  this  ?  "  cried 
Lucky  Lapp,  as  she  limped,  still  and  ever  lame  with  rheumatism, 
towards  the  third  member  of  the  procession.  "  Grin  I  had  the 
loon  that  did  it,"  she  went  on,  fumbling,  with  a  haste  that  de- 
feated itself,  at  the  knot  that  bound  Hawkie's  nose  to  the  tail 
of  the  cadger's  horse — "  gin  I  had  the  loon  'at  did  it,  I  wad 
ding  the  sowl  oot  o'  his  wame,  the  villain!  " 

"  Losh  !  it's  my  ain  cat,  as  weel's  my  ain  coo,"  screamed 
Lucky  Wattles  in  twofold  indignation.  "  Grin  I  cud  but  redd 
{comb)   the  scoourel's  heid  wi'  your  cleuks,  Baudrons  !  "  she 


144  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

added,  as  she  fondled  the  cat  passionately,  "  he  wadna  be  in  sic 
a  doom's  hurry  to  han'le  ye  again,  Is'  wad  (ivager).'' 

By  this  time  Stumpin'  Steenie,  having  undone  his  cow's  tail, 
was  leading  her  home  amid  shouts  of  laughter. 

"  Pit  her  i'  the  lock-up,  Steenie.  She's  been  takin'  up  Avi' 
ill  loons,"  screeched  an  urchin. 

"  Haud  yer  ill  tongue,  or  I  s'  tak'  you  up,  ye  rascal,"  bawled 
Steenie. 

"  Te'll  hae  to  saiddle  Mistress  Stephen  afore  ye  can  catch 
me,  Stumpin'  Steenie!" 

Steenie,  inflamed  with  sudden  wrath,  forsook  the  cow,  and 
made  an  elephantine  rush  at  the  off"ender,  who  vanished  in  the 
crowd,  and  thus  betrayed  the  constable  to  another  shout  of 
laughter. 

While  the  laugh  was  yet  ringing,  the  burly  figure  of  the 
stonemason  appeared,  making  his  way  by  the  momentum  of 
great  bulk  and  slow  motion  to  the  front  of  the  crowd.  AVith- 
out  a  w^ord  to  any  one,  he  drew  a  knife  from  his  pocket,  and 
proceeded  to  cut  every  cord  that  bound  the  helpless  annuals,  the 
people  staring  silent  all  the  while. 

It  was  a  sight  to  see  how  the  dogs  scampered  off"  in  the  de- 
light of  their  recovered  freedom.  But  the  rabbit  lay  where  the 
cat  had  left  him.  Thomas  took  it  with  some  sign  of  tenderness, 
and  holding  it  up  in  his  huge  hand,  put  the  question  to  the 
crowd  in  general. 

"  Wha's  aucht  this  ?  " 

"  It's  cripple  Trufiey's  ?  "  piped  a  shrill  little  voice. 

"  Tell  him  'at  I'll  account  for't,"  rejoined  Thomas,  and  put- 
ting the  animal  in  his  pocket,  departed. 

He  took  the  nearest  way  to  George  Macwha's  workshop, 
where  he  found  Alec  and  Curly,  as  he  had  expected,  busy 
or  appearing  to  be  busy  about  something  belonging  to  their 
boat.  They  looked  considerably  hotter,  however,  than  could 
be  accounted  for  by  their  work.  This  confirmed  Thomas's 
suspicions. 

"  A  fine  ploy  yon  for  a  young  gentleman.  Alec !  "  said  he. 

"AVhat  ploy,  Thomas?"  asked  A  lee,  with  attempted  innocence. 

"Ye  ken  wcel  eneuch  wliat  ploy  I  mean,  man." 

"  Weel,  supposin'  I  do — there's  nae  that  muckle  hairm  dune, 
to  mak'  a  wark  aboot,  surely,  Tliomas." 

"  Ca'  ye  that  no  hairm  ?  "  n^joined  Thomas,  pulling  the  dead 
rabbit  out  of  his  pocket,  and  lioldiiig  it  up  by  the  cars.  "  Ca' 
ye  that  no  hairm  ?  "  he  repeated. 

Alec  stared  in  dismay.  Thomas  well  knew  his  regard  for 
animals,  and  had  calculated  upon  it. 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  145 

"  Luik  at  the  puir  thing  wi'  its  bonny  reid  een  closed  for 
ever  !  It's  a  mercy  to  think  'at  there's  no  lemin'  and  lowin' 
( Mazing  and  flaming)  future  in  store  for  hit,  puir  mappy 
(hunny) ! " 

"  Hoot,  hoot,  Thamas,  man  !  Isna  that  bein'  richteous  over- 
much, as  oor  minister  wad  say  ?  " 

The  question  came  in  the  husky  voice  of  Peter  Whaup,  the 
blacksmith,  who  was  now  discovered  leaning  in  over  the  half- 
door  of  the  shop. 

"  And  wha's  your  minister,  Peter,  my  man  ? "  retorted 
Thomas,  with  some  acrimony. 

"  Mr  Cooie,  as  ye  weel  ken,  Thamas." 

"  I  thoucht  as  muckle.  The  doctrine  savours  o'  the  man, 
Peter.  There's  no  fear  o'  him  or  ony  o'  his  followers  bein' 
richteous  over-much." 

"  V/eel,  ye  ken,  that's  naething  but  a  rabbit  i'  yer  han'. 
It  wad  hae  been  worried  some  day.  Hoo  cam'  't  by  'ts 
deith  ?  " 

"  I  didna  mean  to  kill't.  'Twas  a'  for  fun,  ye  ken,"  said 
Alec,  addressing  Thomas. 

"  There's  a  heap  o'  fun,"  answered  Thomas  with  solemnity, 
"  that  carries  deith  i'  the  tail  o'  't.  Here's  the  puir  cripple 
laddie's  rabbit  as  deid's  a  herrin',  and  him  at  hame  greetin'  his 
een  oot,  I  daursay." 

Alec  caught  up  his  cap  and  made  for  the  door. 

"  I'll  gang  and  see  him.  Curly,  wha  has  ony  rabbits  to 
sell  ?  " 

"Doddles's  cleckit  aboot  a  month  ago." 

"  AVhaur  does  Doddles  bide  ?  " 

"  I'll  lat  ye  see." 

The  boys  were  hurrying  together  from  the  shop,  when  Thomas 
caught  Alec  by  the  arm. 

"  Ye  canna  restore  the  rabbit.  Alec." 

"  Hoot !  Thamas,  ae  rabbit's  as  guid's  anither,"  interposed 
the  smith,  in  a  tone  indicating  disapprobation,  mingled  with  a 
desire  to  mollify. 

"  Ay — to  them  'at  cares  for  neither.  But  there's  sic  a  thing 
as  a  human  election,  as  weel's  a  divine  ane  ;  an'  ane's  no  the 
same's  anither,  ance  it's  a  chosen  ane." 

"  Weel,  I  pity  them  'at  the  Lord  has  no  pity  upo',"  sighed 
the  smith,  with  a  passing  thought  of  his  own  fits  of  drinking. 

"  Gang  ye  and  try  him.  He  may  hae  pity  upo'  you — wha 
kens?"  said  Thomas,  as  he  followed  Alec,  whom  he  had  already 
released,  out  of  the  shop. 

"  Ye  see.  Alec,"  he  resumed  in  a  low  voice,  when  they  were 
10 


146  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

in  the  open  air — Curlj  going  on  before  them,  "  it's  time  'at  ye 
was  growin'  a  man,  and  pittiu'  awa'  childish  things.  Ter  mither 
'11  be  depen'in'  upo'  you,  or  lang,  to  hand  things  gaein'  ;  and 
ye  ken  gin  ye  negleck  yer  chance  at  the  school,  yer  time'll  no 
come  ower  again.  Man,  ye  sud  try  to  do  something  for  con- 
science-sake.    Hae  ye  learnt  yer  lessons  for  the  morn,  noo  ?  " 

''  No,  Thomas.  But  I  will.  I'm  jist  gaein'  to  buy  a  pair  o' 
rabbits  to  Truffey ;  and  syne  I'll  gang  hame." 

"  There's  a  guid  lad.  Te'll  be  a  comfort  till  yer  mither  some 
day  yet." 

With  these  words,  Thomas  turned  and  left  them. 

There  had  been  a  growing,  though  it  was  stilla  vague  sense, 
in  Alec's  mind,  that  he  was  not  doing  well ;  and  this  rebuke  of 
Thomas  Crann  brought  it  full  into  the  light  of  his  own  con- 
sciousness. From  that  day  he  worked  better.  Mr  Malison 
saw  the  change,  and  acknowledged  it.  This  reacted  on  Alec's 
feeling  for  the  master ;  and  during  the  following  winter  he 
made  three  times  the  progress  he  had  made  in  any  winter 
preceding. 

For  the  sea  of  summer  ebbed  away,  and  the  rocky  channels 
of  the  winter  appeared,  with  its  cold  winds,  its  ghost-like  mists, 
and  the  damps  and  shiverings  that  cling  about  the  sepulchre  in 
which  Nature  lies  sleeping.  The  boat  was  carefully  laid  up, 
across  the  rafters  of  the  barn,  well  wrapped  in  a  shroud  of  tar- 
paulin. It  was  buried  up  in  the  air  ;  and  the  Glamour  on  which 
it  had  floated  so  gaily,  would  soon  be  buried  under  the  ice. 
Summer  alone  could  bring  them  together  again — the  one  from 
the  dry  gloom  of  the  barn,  the  other  from  the  cold  seclusion  of 
its  Avintry  hebetude. 

Meantime  Mrs  Forbes  was  somewhat  troubled  in  her  mind 
as  to  what  should  be  done  with  Alec  ;  and  she  often  talked  with 
the  schoolmaster  about  him.  Herself  of  higher  birth,  socially 
considered,  than  her  husband,  she  had  the  ambition  that  her  son 
should  be  educated  for  some  profession.  Now  in  Scotland 
education  is  more  easily  got  than  almost  anything  else ;  and 
wliether  there  might  be  room  for  tlie  exercise  of  the  profession 
afterwards,  was  a  matter  of  less  moment  to  Mrs  Forbes,  seeing 
she  was  not  at  all  willing  that  the  farm  wliich  had  been  in  lier 
husband's  family  for  hundreds  of  years,  should  pass  into  the 
hands  of  strangers,  and  Alec  himself  had  the  strongest  attach- 
ment to  the  ancestral  soil ;  for  to  be  loved  it  is  not  necessary 
that  land  should  be  freehold.  At  length  his  increased  diligence, 
wliich  had  not  escaped  her  observation,  and  was  testified  to  by 
Mr  Malison,  confirmed  her  determination  that  he  should  at  least 
go  to  college.     He  would  be  no  worse  a  farmer  for  having  an 


A.LEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  147 

A.M.  after  his  name  ;  while  the  curriculum  was  common  to  all 
the  professions.  So  it  was  resolved  that,  in  the  following  winter, 
he  should  compete  for  a  hursary. 

The  communication  that  his  fate  lay  in  that  direction  roused 
Alec  still  more.  Now  that  an  ulterior  object  rendered  them 
attractive,  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  classics  with  genuine 
earnestness  ;  and,  on  a  cloudy  day  in  the  end  of  October,  found 
himself  on  the  box-seat  of  the  Koyal  Mail,  with  his  trunk  on 
the  roof  behind  him,  bound  for  a  certain  city  whose  advantages 
are  not  confined  to  the  possession  of  a  university. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


Aftee  driving  through  long  streets,  brilliant  with  shops  of 
endless  marvel,  the  coachman  pulled  up  for  the  last  time.  It 
was  a  dull  drizzly  evening,  with  sudden  windy  gusts,  and,  in 
itself,  dark  as  pitch.  But  Alec  descended,  cold  and  wet,  in  a 
brilliant  light  which  flowed  from  the  door  of  the  hotel  as  if  it 
had  been  the  very  essence  of  its  structure.  A  porter  took 
charge  of  his  box,  hoisted  it  on  his  back,  and  led  the  way  to  the 
address  he  gave  him. 

Notwithstanding  the  drizzle,  and  the  angry  rushes  of  the 
wind  round  the  street-corners,  the  foot-pavements  were  filled 
with  men  and  women,  moving  in  different  directions,  like  a 
double  row  of  busy  ants.  Through  queer  short  cuts  that 
terribly  bewildered  the  way,  the  porter  led  him  to  the  house, 
and  pushing  the  door  open,  went  up  two  flights  of  stone  stairs 
and  knocked  at  a  door  on  the  landing.  Alec  was  shown  into  a 
room  where  a  good  fire  was  blazing  away  with  a  continuous 
welcome ;  and  when  seated  by  it  drinking  his  tea,  he  saw 
the  whole  world  golden  through  the  stained  windows  of  his 
imagination. 

But  his  satisfaction  gradually  passed  into  a  vague  longing 
after  something  else.  Would  human  nature  be  more  perfect 
were  it  capable  of  being  satisfied  with  cakes  and  ale  ?  Alec 
felt  as  if  he  had  got  to  the  borders  of  fairy-land,  and  something 
was  going  to  happen.  A  door  would  open  and  admit  him  into 
the  secret  of  the  world.  But  the  door  was  so  loug  in  opening, 
that  he  took  to  unpacking  his  box; ;  when,  as  he  jumped  up  to 
thank  XAn  mother  for  some  peculiar  remembrance  of  his  likiugs, 
the  whole  affair  suddenly  changed  to  a  rehearsal  of  death ; 


148  ALEC    FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 


ft 


and  his  longings  for  the  remainder  of  the  night  were  towards 
the  past. 

He  rose  in  the  morning  with  the  feeling  revived,  that  some- 
thing intense  was  going  on  all  around.  But  the  door  into  life 
generally  opens  behind  us,  and  a  hand  is  put  forth  which  draws 
us  in  backwards.  The  sole  wisdom  for  man  or  boy  who  is 
haunted  with  the  hovering  of  unseen  wings,  with  the  scent  of 
unseen  roses,  and  the  subtle  enticements  of  "  melodies  unheard," 
is  work.  If  he  follow  any  of  those,  they  will  vanish.  But  if 
he  work,  they  will  come  unsought,  and,  while  they  come,  he 
will  believe  that  there  is  a  fairy-laud,  where  poets  find  their 
dreams,  and  prophets  are  laid  hold  of  by  their  visions.  The  idle 
;   beat  their  heads  against  its  walls,  or  mistake  the  entrance,  and 

Lgo  down  into  the  dark  places  of  the  earth. 
-  Alec  stood  at  the  window,  and  peered  down  into  the  narrow 
street,  through  which,  as  in  a  channel  between  rocks  burrowed 
into  dwellings,  ran  the  ceaseless  torrent  of  traffic.  He  felt  at 
first  as  if  life  at  least  had  opened  its  gates,  and  he  had  been 
transported  into  the  midst  of  its  drama.  But  iu  a  moment  the 
show  changed,  turning  first  into  a  meaningless  procession ; 
then  into  a  chaos  of  conflicting  atoms  ;  re-formiug  itself  at  last 
into  an  endlessly  unfolding  coil,  no  break  in  the  continuity  of 
which  would  ever  reveal  the  hidden  mechanism.  For  to  no 
mere  onlooker  will  Life  any  more  than  Eairy-land  open  its 
secret.  A  man  must  become  an  actor  before  he  can  be  a  true 
spectator. 

Weary  of  standing  at  the  window,  he  went  and  wamlered 
about  the  streets.  To  his  country-bred  eyes  they  were  full  of 
marvels — which  would  soon  be  as  common  to  those  eyes  as  one 
of  the  furrowed  fields  on  his  father's  farm.  The  youth  who 
thinks  the  world  his  oyster,  and  opens  it  forthwith,  finds  no 
pearl  therein. 

What  is  this  nimbus  about  the  new  ?  Is  the  marvel  a 
mockery  ?  Is  the  shine  that  of  demon-gold  ?  No.  It  is  a 
winged  glory  that  alights  beside  the  youth  ;  and,  having  gathered 
his  eyes  to  itself,  flits  away  to  a  further  perch  ;  there  alights, 
there  shines,  thither  entices.  AVith  outstretched  hands  the 
child  of  eartla  follows,  to  fall  weeping  at  the  foot  of  tlie  gray 
disenchanted  thing.  But  beyond,  and  again  beyond,  shines  the 
lapwing  of  heaven — not,  as  a  liiithless  generation  thinks,  to 
delude  like  them,  but  to  lead  the  seeker  home  to  the  nest  of 
the  glory. 

Last  of  all.  Alec  was  forced  to  take  refuge  in  his  books 

The  competition  fell  on  tlie  next  day,  and  he  gained  a  small 
bursary. 


149 


CHAPTEE  XXXIY. 

As  it  happened,  no  one  but  Alec  had  come  up  from  Glamerton 
that  year.  He  did  not  know  one  of  his  fellow-students.  There 
were  very  few  in  the  first  class  indeed  who  had  had  any  pre- 
vious acquaintance  with  each  other.  But  before  three  days 
were  over  like  had  begun  to  draw  to  like,  and  opposites  to  their 
natural  opposites.  These  mutual  attractions,  however,  were 
considerably  influenced  by  the  social  sphere,  as  indicated  by 
style  of  dress,  speech,  and  manners,  in  which  each  had  been 
accustomed  to  move.  Some  of  the  youths  were  of  the  lowliest 
origin — the  sons  of  ploughmen  and  small  country  shopkeepers  ; 
shock-headed  lads,  with  much  of  the  looks  and  manners  of  year- 
old  bullocks,  mostly  with  freckled  faces  and  a  certain  general 
irresponsiveness  of  feature,  soon  to  vanish  as  the  mental  and 
nervous  motions  became  more  frequent  and  rapid,  working  the 
stifl"  clay  of  their  faces  into  a  readier  obedience  to  the  indwelling 
plasticity.  Some,  on  the  other  hand,  showed  themselves  at  once 
the  aristocracy  of  the  class,  by  their  carriage  and  social  qualifi- 
cations or  assumptions.  These  were  not  generally  the  best 
scholars  ;  but  they  set  the  fashion  in  the  cut  of  their  coats,  and 
especially  in  the  style  of  their  neckerchiefs.  Most  of  them 
were  of  Highland  families  ;  some  of  them  jolly,  hearty  fellows  ; 
others  aftected  and  presumptuous,  evidently  considering  it  be- 
neath them  to  associate  with  the  multitude. 

Alec  belonged  to  a  middle  class.  Well-dressed,  he  yet 
knew  that  his  clothes  had  a  country  air,  and  that  beside  some 
of  the  men  he  cut  a  poor  figure  in  more  than  in  this  particular. 
For  a  certain  superiority  of  manner  distinguished  them,  indi- 
cating that  they  had  been  accustomed  to  Tnore  of  the  outward 
refinements  of  life  than  he.  Now  let  Alec  once  feel  that  a  man 
was  wiser  and  better  than  himself,  and  he  was  straightway 
incapable  of  envying  him  any  additional  superiority  possible — 
would,  in  a  word,  be  perfectly  willing  that  he  should  both  wear 
a  better  coat  and  be  a  better  scholar  than  himself  But  to 
any  one  who  did  not  possess  the  higher  kind  of  superiority,  he 
foolishly  and  enviously  grudged  the  lower  kinds  of  pre-eminence. 
To  understand  this  it  must  be  remembered,  that  as  yet  he  had 
deduced  for  himself  no  principles  of  action  or  feeling:  he  was 
only  a  boy  well-made,  with  little  goodness  that  he  had  in  any 
way  verified  lor  himself. 

On  the  second  day  after  the  commencement  of  lectures,  it 
was  made  known  to  the  first  class  that  the  Magistrand  {fourth- 


150  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

clasx)  Debating  Society  would  meet  that  evening.  The  meetings 
of  this  society,  although  under  the  control  of  the  magistrauds, 
were  open,  upon  equal  terms  in  most  other  respects,  to  the 
members  of  the  inferior  classes.  They  were  held  in  the 
Natural  Philosophy  class-room,  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  ; 
and  to  the  first  meeting  of  the  session  Alec  went  with  no  little 
curiosity  and  expectation. 

It  was  already  dark  when  he  set  out  from  his  lodgings  in 
the  new  town,  for  the  gateway  beneath  the  tower  with  that 
crown  of  stone  which  is  the  glory  of  the  ancient  borough 
gathered  beneath  it.  Through  narrow  crooked  streets,  with 
many  dark  courts  on  each  side,  he  came  to  the  open  road  which 
connected  the  two  towns.  It  was  a  starry  night,  dusky  rather 
than  dark,  and  full  of  the  long  sound  of  the  distant  sea-waves 
falling  on  the  shore  beyond  the  links.  He  was  striding  along 
whistling,  and  thinking  about  as  nearly  nothing  as  might  be, 
when  the  figure  of  a  man,  whose  footsteps  he  had  heard  coming 
through  the  gloom,  suddenly  darkened  before  him  and  stopped. 
It  was  a  little  spare,  slouching  figure,  but  what  the  face  was 
like,  he  could  not  see. 

"  Whustlin'  ?  "  said  the  man,  interrogatively. 

"Ay;  what  for  no  ?  "  answered  Alec  cheerily. 

"  Hand  yer  een  aff"  o'  rainbows,  or  ye'll  brak'  yer  shins  upo' 
gravestanes,"  said  the  man,  and  went  on,  with  a  shuffling  gait, 
his  eyes  flashing  on  Alec,  from  under  projecting  brows,  as  he 
passed. 

Alec  concluded  him  drunk,  although  drink  would  not  alto- 
gether account  for  the  strangeness  of  the  address,  and  soon 
forgot  him.  The  arch  echoed  to  his  feet  as  he  entered  the  dark 
quadrangle,  across  which  a  glimmer  in  the  opposite  tower 
guided  him  to  the  stairs  leading  up  to  the  place  of  meeting. 
He  found  the  large  room  lighted  by  a  chandelier,  and  one  of 
the  students  seated  as  president  in  the  professor's  chair,  while 
the  benches  were  occupied  by  about  two  hundred  students, 
most  of  the  freshmen  or  bejans  in  their  red  gowns. 

Various  preliminary  matters  were  discussed  with  an  energy 
of  utterance,  anda  fitness  of  speech,  whicli  would  have  put  to 
shame  the  general  elocution  of  both  the  pulpit  and  the  bar. 
At  length,  however,  a  certain  semi  (second-classman,  or  more 
popularly  sheep)  stood  up  to  give  his  opinion  on  some  subject 
in  dispute,  and  attempting  to  speak  too  soon  after  his  dinner, 
for  he  was  one  of  the  more  fashionable  order,  hemmed  and 
stammered  till  tiie  weariness  of  the  assembly  burst  upon  him 
in  a  perfect  torrent  of  hisses  and  other  animal  exclamations. 
Among  the  loudest  in  this  inarticulate  protestation,  were  some 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  151 

of  the  red-gowned  bejans,  and  the  speaker  kindled  with  wrath 
at  the  presumption  of  the  yellow-beaks  {bees  jaunes :  bejans), 
till,  indignation  bursting  open  the  barriers  of  utterance,  he 
poured  forth  a  torrent  of  sarcastic  contempt  on  the  young  clod- 
hoppers, who,  having  just  come  from  herding  their  fathers' 
cows,  could  express  their  feelings  in  no  more  suitable  language 
than  that  of  the  bovine  animals  which  had  been  their  principal 
and  fit  associates.  As  he  sat  down,  his  eyes  rested  with 
withering  scorn  upon  Alec  Forbes,  who  instantly  started  to 
his  feet  amidst  a  confusion  of  plaudits  and  hisses,  but,  finding 
it  absolutely  impossible  to  speak  so  as  to  be  heard,  contented 
himself  with  uttering  a  sonorous  ba-a-a-a,  and  instant  dropped 
into  his  seat,  all  the  other  outcries  dissolving  in  shouts  of 
laughter.  In  a  moment  he  received  a  caudle  full  in  the  face  ; 
its  companions  went  flying  in  all  directions,  and  the  room  was 
in  utter  darkness.  A  scramble  for  the  door  followed ;  and 
amidst  struggling,  shouting,  and  swearing,  the  whole  company 
rolled  down  the  stair  into  the  quadrangle,  most  of  them  with- 
out their  caps,  and  some  with  their  new  gowns  toru  from 
bottom  to  top.  The  night  was  hideous  with  the  uproar.  In 
the  descent.  Alec  received  a  blow  on  the  head  which  half 
stunned  liim  ;  but  he  did  not  imagine  that  its  severity  was 
other  than  an  accident  of  the  crush.  He  made  the  best  of  his 
way  home,  and  went  to  bed. 

After  this  he  was  popular ;  and  after  this,  as  often  as 
Patrick  Beauchamp  and  he  passed  each  other  in  walking  up 
and  down  the  arcade,  Beauchamp's  high  curved  upper  lip 
would  curve  yet  higher,  and  Alec  would  feel  with  annoyance 
that  he  could  not  sustain  the  glance  of  his  gray  eyes. 

Beauchamp  was  no  great  favourite  even  in  his  own  set ;  for 
there  is  one  kind  of  religion  in  which  the  more  devoted  a  man 
is,  the  fewer  proselytes  he  makes  :  the  worship  of  himself. 


CHAPTEE  XXXV. 

Oke  morning,  about  two  months  from  the  beginning  of  the 
session,  after  the  students  had  been  reading  for  some  time  in 
the  Greek  class,  the  professor  was  seen,  not  unexpectedly  to 
part  of  the  assembly,  to  look  up  at  the  ceiling  with  sudden  dis- 
composure. There  had  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  in  the  night, 
and  one  of  the  students,  whose  organ  of  humour  had  gained  at 


152  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

the  expense  of  that  of  veneration,  had,  before  the  arrival  of 
the  professor,  gathered  a  ball  of  the  snow,  and  thrown  it 
against  the  ceiling  with  such  forceful  precision,  that  it  stuck 
right  over  the  centre  of  the  chair.  This  was  perhaps  the  first 
time  that  such  a  trick  had  been  dared  in  the  first  class,  beloug- 
ing  more  properly  to  the  advanced  depravity  of  the  second  or 
third.  When  the  air  began  to  get  warm,  the  snow  began  to 
drop  upon  the  head  of  the  old  professor ;  and  this  was  the 
cause  of  his  troubled  glance  at  the  ceiling.  But  the  moment 
he  looked  up.  Alec,  seeing  what  was  the  matter,  and  feeling  all 
his  natural  loyalty  roused,  sprang  from  his  seat,  and  rushiug 
out  of  the  class-room,  returned  with  a  long  broom  which  the 
sacrist  had  been  using  to  clear  foot-paths  across  the  quadrangle. 
The  professor  left  his  chair,  and  Alec  springing  on  the  desk, 
swept  the  snow  from  the  ceiling.  He  then  wiped  the  seat 
with  his  handkerchief  and  returned  to  his  place.  The  gratitude 
of  the  old  man  shone  in  his  eyes.  True,  he  would  only  have 
had  to  send  for  the  sacrist  to  rescue  him ;  but  here  was  an 
atonement  for  the  insult,  offered  by  one  of  the  students  them- 
selves. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr  Forbes,"  he  stammered ;  "  I  am  ek — 
ek — ek — exceedingly  obliged  to  you." 

The  professor  was  a  curious,  kindly  little  man — lame,  with 
a  brown  wig,  a  wrinkled  face,  and  a  long  mouth,  of  which  he 
only  made  use  of  the  half  on  the  right  side  to  stammer  out 
humorous  and  often  witty  sayings — at  least  so  they  appeared 
to  those  who  had  grace  enough  to  respect  his  position  and  his 
age.  As  often  as  reference  is  made  in  my  hearing  to  Charles 
Lamb  and  his  stutter,  up  comes  the  face  of  dear  old  Professor 
Eraser,  and  I  hear  him  once  more  stammering  out  some  joke, 
the  very  fun  of  which  had  its  source  in  kindliness.  Somehow 
the  stutter  never  interfered  with  the  point  of  the  joke:  that 
always  came  with  a  rush.  He  seemed,  while  hesitating  on 
some  unimportant  syllable,  to  be  arranging  what  was  to  follow 
and  strike  the  blow. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  continued  upon  this  occasion,  "  the  Scrip- 
ture says  you're  to  heap  c-c-c-coals  of  fire  on  your  enemy's 
head.  When  you  are  to  heap  drops  of  water  on  your  friend's 
w-w-wig,  the  Scripture  doesn't  say." 

The  same  evening  Alec  received  a  note  from  him  asking  him 
to  breakfast  with  him  the  following  morning,  which  was  Satur- 
day, and  consequently  a  holiday.  It  was  usual  with  the  pro- 
fessors to  invite  a  dozen  or  so  of  the  students  to  breakt'ast  on 
Saturdays,  but  on  this  occasion  Alec  was  the  sole  guest. 

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  room,  Mr  Eraser  hobbled  to 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  lo3 

meet  him,  with  outstretched  hand  of  welcome,  and  a  kindly 
grill  on  his  face. 

''Mr  Forbes,"  he  said,  "I  h-h-hope  well  of  you;  for  you 
can  respect  an  old  man.  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you.  I  hope 
you've  brought  an  appetite  with  you.  Sit  down.  Always  re- 
spect old  age,  Mr  Porbes.  You'll  be  old  yourself  some  day — 
and  you  won't  like  it  any  more  than  I  do.  I've  had  my  young 
days,  though,  and  I  mustn't  grumble." 

And  here  he  smiled ;  but  it  was  a  sad  smile,  and  a  tear 
gathered  in  the  corner  of  one  of  his  old  eyes.  He  caught  up 
a  globular  silver  tea-pot,  and  began  to  fill  the  tea-cups.  Appar- 
ently the  reflection  of  his  own  face  in  the  tea-pot  was  too 
comical  to  resist,  for  the  old  man  presently  broke  into  what 
was  half  a  laugh  and  half  a  grin,  and,  without  in  any  wav 
accounting  for  it,  went  on  talking  quite  merrily  for  the  rest  of 
the  meal. 

"  My  mother  told  me,"  said  Alec  at  length,  "in  a  letter  I 
had  from  her  yesterday,  that  your  brother,  sir,  had  married  a 
cousin  of  hers." 

"  What !  what !   Are  you  a  son  of  Mr  Forbes  of  Howglen  ?  " 

"Tes,  sir." 

"  You  young  rascal !  "Why  didn't  your  mother  send  you 
to  me  ?  " 

"  She  didn't  like  to  trouble  you,  I  suppose,  sir." 

"  People  like  me,  that  haven't  any  relations,  must  make  the 
most  of  the  relations  they  have.  I  am  in  no  danger  of  being 
troubled  that  way.    You've  heard  of  my  poor  brother's  death  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  He  died  last  year.  He  was  a  clergyman,  you  know.  When 
you  come  up  next  session,  I  hope  to  show  you  his  daughter — 
your  cousin,  you  know.  She  is  coming  to  live  with  me.  People 
that  don't  marry  don't  deserve  to  have  children.  But  I'm 
going  to  have  one  after  all.  She's  at  school  now.  What  do 
you  think  of  turning  to,  Mr  Forbes  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  thought  much  about  it  yet,  sir." 

"  Ah  !  I  daresay  not.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  be  a  doctor. 
If  you're  honest,  you're  sure  to  do  some  good.  I  think  you're 
just  the  man  for  a  doctor  now — ^you  respect  your  fellow-men. 
You  don't  laugh  at  old  age,  Mr  Forbes." 

And  so  the  kind  garrulous  old  man  went  on,  talking  about 
everything  except  Greek.  For  that  he  had  no  enthusiasm. 
Indeed,  he  did  not  know  enough  to  have,  by  possibility,  any 
feeling  about  it.  What  he  did  know,  however,  he  taught  well, 
and  very  conscientiously. 

This  was  the  first  time  that  Alec's  thoughts  had  been  turned 


154  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

towards  a  profession.  The  more  he  thought  about  it  the  better 
he  liked  the  idea  of  being  a  doctor ;  till  at  length,  after  one  or 
two  talks  about  it  with  Sir  Fraser,  he  resolved,  notwithstand- 
ing that  the  session  was  considerably  advanced,  to  attend  the 
anatomical  course  for  the  rest  of  it.  The  Greek  and  Latin 
were  tolerably  easy  to  him,  and  it  would  be  so  much  time 
gained  if  he  entered  the  first  medical  class  at  once.  He  need 
not  stand  the  examination  except  he  liked,  and  the  fee  was  not 
by  any  means  large.  His  mother  was  more  than  satisfied  with 
the  proposal,  and,  although  what  seemed  a  trifle  to  Alec  was 
of  some  consequence  to  her,  she  sent  him  at  once  the  necessary 
supplies.  Mr  Fraser  smoothed  the  way  for  him  with  the  pro- 
fessor, and  he  was  soon  busy  making  up  his  distance  by  a  close 
study  of  the  class-books. 


CHAPTEE  XXXYI. 


The  first  day  of  his  attendance  in  the  dissecting-room  was 
a  memorable  one,  and  had  memorable  consequences.  He  had 
considerable  misgivings  about  the  new  experience  he  had  to 
meet,  and  sought,  by  the  concentration  of  his  will,  to  prepare 
mmself  to  encounter  the  inevitable  with  calmness,  and,  if 
possible,  with  seeming  indifference.  But  he  was  not  prepared 
after  all  for  the  disadvantage  of  entering  a  company  already 
hardened  to  those  peculiarities  of  the  position  for  which  a  cer- 
tain induration  is  as  desirable  as  unavoidable. 

"When  he  entered  the  room,  he  found  a  group  already  gather- 
ed. He  drew  timidly  towards  the  table  on  the  other  side,  not 
daring  to  glance  at  something  which  lay  upon  it — "  white  with 
the  whiteness  of  what  is  dead ; "  and,  feeling  as  if  all  the  men 
were  looking  at  him,  as  indeed  most  of  them  were,  kept  staring, 
or  trying  to  stare,  at  other  things  in  the  room.  But  all  at 
once,  from  an  irresistible  impulse,  he  faced  round,  and  looked 
at  the  table. 

There  lay  the  body  of  a  woman,  with  a  young  sad  face, 
beautiful  in  spite  of  a  terrible  scar  on  the  forehead,  which  in- 
dicated too  plainly  with  what  brutal  companions  she  had  con- 
sorted. Alec's  lip  quivered,  and  his  throat  swelled  with  a  pain- 
ful sensation  of  choking.  He  turned  away,  and  bit  his  lip  hard 
to  keep  down  his  emotion. 

The  best  quality  he  possessed  was  an  entire  and  profound 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 


155 


reverence  for  women.  Indignation  even  was  almost  quelled  in 
the  shock  he  received,  when  one  of  the  students,  for  the  plea- 
sure of  sneering  at  his  discomposure,  and  making  a  boast  of  his 
own  superiority  to  such  weakness,  uttered  a  brutal  jest.  In 
vain  the  upturned  face  made  its  white  appeal  to  the  universe : 
a  laugh  billowed  the  silence  about  its  head. 

But  no  rudeness  could  hurt  that  motionless  heart — no  in- 
sult bring  a  blush  on  that  pale  face.  The  closed  eyes,  the 
abandoned  hands  seemed  only  to  pray  : 

"  Let  me  into  the  dark — out  of  the  eyes  of  those  men  !  " 

Alec  gave  one  sob  in  the  vain  effort  to  master  the  conflict- 
ing emotions  of  indignation  and  pity.  It  reverberated  in  the 
laugh  which  burst  from  the  students  of  the  healing  art.  Almost 
quenched  in  the  laugh  he  heard  one  word  however,  in  the  same 
voice  which  had  made  the  jest — a  voice  he  knew  well  enough — 
that  of  Patrick  Beauchamp.  His  face  blazed  up ;  his  eyes 
flashed  ;  and  he  had  made  one  step  forward,  when  he  was 
arrested  by  the  still  face  of  the  dead  woman,  which,  ghostly  as 
the  morning  moon,  returned  no  glow  in  the  red  sunlight  of  his 
wrath ;  and  in  reverence  he  restrained  his  anger.  In  another 
moment,  the  professor  arrived. 

During  the  lecture  and  accompanying  demonstrations.  Alec 
was  deaf  and  blind  from  burning  rage  ;  in  the  midst  of  which, 
however,  he  almost  forgot  his  own  wrong  in  regarding  that  done 
to  the  dead.  He  became,  in  his  own  eyes,  the  champion  of  one 
whom  nature  and  death  had  united  to  render  defenceless.  Prom 
the  verge  of  a  gulf  more  terrible  than  the  grave,  her  cry  had 
reached  him,  and  he  would  rise  to  avenge  her. 

As  soon  as  they  came  out,  he  walked  up  to  Beauchamp. 

"  Tou  called  me  a  spoony,"  he  said  through  his  set  teeth. 

"  I  did,"  answered  Beauchamp,  with  an  admirable  drawl  of 
indifference. 

Alec  replied  with  a  bloAV ;  whereupon  Beauchamp  knocked 
him  down.  But  he  was  up  in  a  moment ;  and,  although  his 
antagonist  was  both  older  and  bigger,  the  elasticity  of  his  per- 
fect health  soon  began  to  tell.  There  was  little  science  between 
them,  and  what  there  was  lay  on  Beauchamp'sside  ;  yet  he  de- 
fended himself  more  and  more  feebly,  for  his  wind  had  soon 
given  way.  At  length,  after  receiving  a  terrible  blow  on  the 
mouth,  Beauchamp  dropped  his  arms  and  turned  his  back  ;  and 
Alec,  after  some  hesitation,  let  him  go  without  the  parting  kick 
which  he  was  tempted  to  give  him,  and  which  he  had  so  well 
deserved. 

The  men  dispersed  without  remark,  ashamed  of  themselves, 
and  admiring  the   bumpkin — most  of  them  were  gentlemen 


]j6  alec  FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

enough  for  that ;  while  each  of  the  combatants  retired  unac- 
compauied  to  his  own  lodging — Alec  with  a  black  eye,  which 
soon  passed  through  yellow  back  to  its  own  natural  hue,  and 
Beauchamp  with  a  cut,  the  scar  of  which  deepened  the  sneer  on 
his  upper  lip,  and  was  long  his  evil  counsellor  from  the  confes- 
sional of  the  mirror. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


The  encounter  fortunately  took  place  upon  a  Friday,  so 
that  the  combatants  had  both  Saturday  and  Sunday,  with  the 
deodand  of  a  slight  fine  for  being  absent  from  chapel,  to  recover 
appearances.  Alec  Ivept  to  the  house  both  days,  and  read  hard 
at  his  medical  and  anatomical  books.  His  landlady  took  charge 
of  his  eye,  and  ministered  to  it  with  assiduity  and  discretion, 
asking  no  questions,  and  courting  no  confidences,  only  looking 
at  him  comically  now  and  then  out  of  gray  motherly  eyes,  that 
might  have  been  trusted  with  the  universe.  She  knew  the 
ways  of  students.  In  the  course  of  one  of  the  dressings,  she 
said  : 

"  Ye'll  be  thinkin'  laug  {ennuiie),  Mr  Forbes,  at  haein'  to 
bide  i'  the  hoose  wi'  that  blackamoor  ee  o'  yours.  Hoo 
dinna  ye  gang  up  the  stair  to  Mr  Cupples,  and  hae  a  lauch  wi' 
him  ?  " 

"  I  didna  ken  ye  had  onybody  up  the  stair.  Wha's  Mr 
Cupples  ?  " 

"  Weel,  he  kens  that  best  himsel !  But  he's  a  gey  queer  ane. 
He's  a  terrible  scholar  though,  fowk  says — gran'  at  the  Greek, 
and  rael  bonny  on  the  mathewmawtics.  Only  ye  maunna  be 
fleyt  {friglilenecT)  at  him." 

"  I'm  easy  fleyt,"  said  Alec,  with  a  laugh.  "  But  I  wad  like 
to  see  him." 

"  Gang  up,  than,  and  chap  at  the  garret  door  upo'  yer  left 
ban'." 

"  But  what  reason  am  I  to  gie  him  for  disturom'  him  ?  " 
asked  Alec. 

"  Ow  nane  ava.  Jist  tak'  a  moufii'  o'  Greek  wi'  ye  to  speir 
the  richt  meanin'  o',  gin  ye  maun  liae  a  rizzon." 

"That  will  do  just  iirst-rate,"  said  Alec;  "  for  here  I  have 
been  puzzling  over  a  sentence  for  the  last  half  hourwitli  nobody 
but  this  dim-sighted  ghost  of  a  Schrevelius  to  help  me  out  with 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  157 

it.  I'll  go  directly.  But  I  look  sucli  a  blackguard  with  this 
game  eye  !  " 

The  landlady  laughed. 

"  You'll  suue  forget  that  whan  ye  see  Mr  Cupples." 

To  the  dismay  of  his  nurse,  Alec  pulled  the  bandage  off  his 
eye,  and  amidst  her  expostulations  caught  up  his  book,  and 
rushing  away,  bounded  up  the  garret  stairs,  which  ascended 
outside  the  door  of  the  Jlaf.  At  the  top,  he  found  himself  under 
the  bare  roof,  with  only  boards  and  slates  between  him  and  the 
clouds.  The  landing  was  lighted  by  a  skylight,  across  which 
diligent  and  undisturbed  spiders  had  woven  their  webs  for  years. 
He  stood  for  a  moment  or  two,  puzzled  as  to  which  door  he 
ought  to  assail,  for  all  the  doors  about  looked  like  closet-doors, 
leading  into  dingy  recesses.  At  last,  with  the  aid  of  his  nose, 
he  made  up  his  mind,  and  knocked. 

"  Come  in,"  cried  a  voice  of  peculiar  tone.  It  reminded 
Alec  of  something  he  could  not  at  all  identify,  which  was  not 
wonderful,  seeing  it  was  of  itself,  heard  once  before,  that  it  re- 
minded him.  It  was  the  same  voice  which,  as  he  walked  to  the 
debate,  the  first  night,  had  warned  him  not  to  look  at  rainbows. 

He  opened  the  door  and  entered. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  said  the  Yoice,  its  source  almost  in- 
visible in  the  thick  fumes  of  genuine  pigtail,  through  which  it 
sent  cross  odours  of  as  genuine  Glenlivat. 

"  I  want  you  to  help  me  with  a  bit  of  Homer,  if  you  please, 
Mr  Cupples. — I'm  not  up  to  Homer  yet." 

"  Do  ye  think  I  hae  naething  ither  to  do  than  to  grin'  the 
grandur  o'  an  auld  haythen  into  spunemate  for  a  young  sinner 
like  you  ?  " 

"Te  dinna  ken  what  I'm  like,  Mr  Cupples,"  returned 
Alec,  remembering  his  landlady's  injunction  not  to  be  afraid 
of  him. 

"  Come  athort  the  reek,  and  lat's  luik  at  ye." 

Alec  obeyed,  and  found  the  speaker  seated  by  the  side  of  a 
little  fire,  in  an  old  easy-chair  covered  with  horsehair;  anl 
while  undergoing  his  scrutiny,  took  his  revenge  iu  kind.  Mr 
Cupples  was  a  man  who  might  have  been  of  almost  any  a^e  from 
five-and-twenty  to  fifty — at  least.  Alec's  experience  was  insuffi- 
cient for  the  task  of  determining  to  what  decade  of  human  years 
he  belonged.  He  was  a  little  man,  in  a  long  black  tail-coat 
much  too  large,  and  dirty  gray  trousers.  He  had  no  sliirt-collar 
visible,  although  a  loose  rusty  stock  revealed  the  whole  of  his 
brown  neck.  His  hair,  long,  thin,  fair,  and  yet  a  good  deal 
mingled  with  grey,  straggled  about  over  an  uncommonly  high 
forehead,  which  had  somehow  the  neglected  and  ruinous  look  of 


158  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOVVGLEN. 

an  old  bare  tower  no  ivy  had  beautified.  His  ears  stood  far  out 
from  his  great  head.  His  nose  refuses  to  be  described.  His 
lips  were  plentiful  and  loose  ;  his  chin  was  not  worth  mention- 
ing ;  his  eyes  were  rather  large,  beautifully  formed,  bright,  and 
blue.  His  hand,  small,  delicately  shaped,  and  dirty,  grasped, 
all  the  time  he  was  examining  Alec,  a  tumbler  of  steaming 
toddy;  while  his  feet,  in  list  slippers  of  different  colours,  balanced 
themselves  upon  the  fender 

"  You've  been  fighting,  you  young  rascal !  "  said  Mr 
Cupples,  in  a  tone  of  authority,  the  moment  he  had  satisfied 
himself  about  Alec's  countenance.  "  That  won't  do.  It's  not 
respectable." 

And  he  gave  the  queerest  unintelligible  grin. 

Alec  found  himself  strangely  attracted  to  him,  and  impelled 
— a  feeling  not  unfrequent  wilh  him — to  tell  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth. 

"  The  world  itself  isn't  the  most  respectable  planet  in  the 
system,  Mr  Cupples,"  said  he  ;  "  and  no  honest  inhabitant  of  it 
can  be  always  respectable  either." 

Mr  Cupples  chuckled  and  laughed  groggily,  mutteringsome- 
where  in  his  chest — 

"  You  young  dog  !  there's  stuff  in  you  !  "  Then  compos- 
ing himself  a  little,  he  said  aloud  :  "  Tell  me  all  about  it 
directly." 

Alec  obeyed,  and,  not  without  emotion,  gave  Mr  Cupples  the 
whole  liistory  of  the  affair. 

"  Damn  you  !  "  remarked  Mr  Cupples  in  a  husky  voice,  a-s 
he  held  out  a  trembling  hand  to  Alec,  "  you're  one  of  the 
right  sort.  I'll  do  anything  for  you  I  can.  Where's  your 
Homer  ?  " 

So  saying,  he  rose  with  care  and  went  towards  a  cupboard 
in  the  corner.  His  pipe  had  been  so  far  interrupted  during 
their  conversation,  that  Alec  was  now  able,  by  the  light  of  the 
tallow  candle,  to  see  the  little  garret  room,  with  its  ceiling  on 
one  side  sloping  nearly  to  the  floor,  its  walls  begrimed  with 
smoke,  and  the  bare  plaster  covered  with  grotesque  pencil-draw- 
ings— caricatures  of  Homeric  heroes  in  the  guise  of  schoolboys, 
polemic  clergymen  of  the  city  in  the  garb  of  fish-wives  militant, 
and  such  like.  A  bed  and  a  small  chest  of  drawers  stood  under 
the  slope  of  the  I'oof,  and  the  rest  of  the  room  was  occupied  by 
a  painted  table  covered  with  papers,  and  a  chair  or  two.  An 
old  broadsword  leaned  against  the  wall  in  a  corner.  A  half-opeu 
cupboard  revealed  bottles,  glasses,  and  a  dry-looking  cheese. 
To  the  corresponding  cupboard,  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire, 
which  had  lost  a  corner  by  the  descent  of  the  roof,  Mr  Cupplea 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEX.  lo9 

now  dragged  his  slippers,  feeling  iu  liis  waistcoat  pocket,  as  lie 
went,  for  the  key. — There  was  another  door  still,  partly  sunk  in 
the  slope  of  the  ceiling. 

AVhen  he  opened  the  cupboard,  a  dusky  glimmer  of  sp'endid 
bindings  filling  tlie  whole  recess,  shone  out  upon  the  dingy 
room.  From  a  shelf  he  took  a  volume  of  Homer,  bound  in 
vellum,  with  red  edges — -a  copy  of  far  greater  value  than  Alec 
had  knowledge  of  books  to  understand — and  closing  the  door 
again,  resumed  his  seat  in  the  easy-chair.  Having  found  the 
passage,  he  read  it  tlirough  aloud  in  a  manner  which  made 
Homer  for  the  first  time  sound  like  poetry  in  Alec's  ears,  and 
almost  revealed  the  hidden  significance.  Then  pouncing  at 
once  upon  the  shadowy  word  which  was  the  key  to  the  whole, 
he  laid  open  the  construction  and  meaning  in  one  sentence  of 
explanation. 

"  Thank  you  !  thank  you  !  "  exclaimed  Alec.  "  I  see  it  all 
now  as  plain  as  English." 

"  Stop,  stop,  my  young  bantam  !  "  said  Mr  Cupples.  "  Don't 
think  you'i'e  going  to  break  into  mv  privacy  and  get  otf  with 
the  booty  so  cheaply.  Just  you  construe  the  whole  sentence 
to  me." 

Alec  did  so  tolerably  well ;  for  the  passage  was  only  an  easy 
extract,  the  class  not  having  reached  Homer  yet.  Mr  Cupples 
put  several  questions  to  him,  which  gave  him  more  insight  into 
Greek  than  a  week's  work  in  the  class  would  have  done,  and 
ended  with  a  small  lecture  suggested  by  the  passage,  drinking 
away  at  his  toddy  all  the  time.  The  lecture  and  the  toddy 
ended  together.  Turning  his  head  aside,  where  it  lay  back  in 
the  horse-hair  chair,  he  said  sleepily  : 

"  Go  away — I  don't  know  your  name. — Come  and  see  me 
to-morrow  night.     I'm  drunk  now." 

Alec  rose,  made  some  attempt  at  thanks,  received  no  syllable 
of  reply,  and  went  out,  closing  the  door  behind  him,  and  leaving 
Mr  Cupples  to  his  dreams. 

His  countenance  had  not  made  much  approximation  to  re- 
spectability before  the  IMonday.  He  therefore  kejjt  it  as  well 
as  he  could  out  of  Mr  Eraser's  sight,  to  whom  he  did  not  wish 
to  give  explanations  to  the  prejudice  of  any  of  his  fellow-students. 
Mr  Eraser,  however,  saw  his  black  eye  well  enough,  but  was  too 
discreet  to  ask  questions,  and  appeared  quite  unaware  of  the 
transitory  blemish. 


IGO 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Meantime,  at  Glamertou  the  winter  passed  very  mucli  like 
former  winters  to  all  but  three — Mrs  Forbes,  Annie  Anderson, 
and  Willie  Macwha.  To  these  the  loss  of  Alec  was  dreary. 
So  they  were  in  a  manner  compelled  to  draw  closer  together. 
At  school.  Curly  assumed  the  protectorship  of  Annie  which 
had  naturally  devolved  upon  him,  although  there  was  now 
comparatively  little  occasion  for  its  exercise  ;  and  Mrs  Forbes, 
finding  herself  lonely  in  her  parlour  during  the  long  forenif/hfs, 
got  into  the  habit  of  sending  Mary  at  least  three  times  a  week 
to  fetch  her.  This  was  not  agreeable  to  the  Bruce,  but  the 
kingly  inheritor  abode  his  hour  ;  and  Mrs  Forbes  had  no  notion 
of  the  amount  of  oftence  she  gave  by  doing  so. 

That  parlour  at  Howglen  was  to  Annie  a  little  heaven 
hollowed  out  of  the  winter.  The  warm  curtains  drawn,  and  the 
fire  blazing  defiantly, — the  angel  with  the  flaming  sword  to 
protect  their  Paradise  from  the  frost,  it  was  indeed  a  contrast 
to  the  sordid  shop,  and  the  rat-haunted  garret. 

After  tea  they  took  it  in  turns  to  work  and  to  read.  INIrs 
Forbes  had  never  sought  to  satisfy  the  religious  public  as  to 
the  state  of  her  mind,  and  so  had  never  been  led  astray  into 
making  frantic  eftoi'ts  to  rouse  her  own  feelings ;  which  is,  in 
fact,  to  apply  to  them  the  hottest  searing  iron  of  all,  next  to 
that  of  sin.  TIence  her  emotional  touch  remained  delicate,  and 
what  she  could  understand  she  could  feel.  The  good  books  she 
liked  best  were  stories  of  the  Scotch  Covenanters  aud  Worthies, 
whose  example,  however  much  of  stiff"-neckedness  may  have 
mingled  witli  their  devotion,  was  yet  the  best  that  Annie  could 
have,  inasmuch  as  they  were  simply  martyrs — men  who  would 
not  sny  1/es  when  they  ought  to  say  no.  Nor  was  Mrs  Forbes  too 
religious  to  enjoy  the  representation  given  of  these  Covenanters 
in  Old  Mortality.  Her  feelings  found  nothing  repulsive  in  the 
book,  although  she  never  discovered  the  reason  in  the  fact  that 
Sir  Walter's  feelings  were  the  same  as  her  own,  wliatever  his 
opinions  miglit  be,  and  had  given  the  chief  colour  aud  tone  to 
the  representation  of  his  characters.  There  were  more  books 
in  the  house  than  was  usual  even  in  that  of  a gentlevmn  farmer  ; 
and  several  of  Sir  Walter's  novels,  besides  some  travels,  and  a 
little  Scotch  history,  were  read  between  them  that  winter.   In 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  161 

poetry,  Annie  had  to  forage  for  herself.  Mrs  Forbes  could  lend 
her  no  guiding  hand  in  that  direction. 

The  bond  between  them  grew  stronger  every  day.  Annie 
was  to  Mrs  Forbes  an  outlet  for  her  maternity,  which  could 
never  have  outlet  enough  without  a  girl  as  well  as  a  boy  to  love  ; 
and  Annie,  in  consequence,  was  surrounded  by  numberless  holy 
influences,  which,  operating  in  a  time  when  she  was  growing 
fast,  had  their  full  eflect  upon  mind  and  body  both.  In  a  con- 
dition of  rapid  change,  the  mass  is  more  yielding  and  responsive. 
One  result  in  her  was,  that  a  certain  sober  grace,  like  that  of 
the  lovely  dull-feathered  hen-birds,  began  to  manifest  itself  in 
her  carriage  and  her  ways.  And  this  leads  me  to  remark  that 
her  outward  and  visible  feathers  would  have  been  dull  enough 
had  not  Mrs  Forbes  come  to  her  aid  with  dresses  of  her  own, 
which  they  remade  between  them ;  for  it  will  easily  be  believed 
that  no  avoidable  outlay  remained  unavoided  by  the  Bruces. 
Indeed,  but  for  the  feeling  that  she  must  be  decent  on  Sundays, 
they  would  have  let  her  go  yet  shabbier  than  she  was  when  Mrs 
Forbes  thus  partially  adopted  her.  Now  that  she  was  warmly 
and  neatly  dressed,  she  began  to  feel  and  look  more  like  the 
lady-child  she  really  was.  No  doubt  the  contrast  was  very 
painful  when  she  retmmed  from  Mrs  Forbes's  warm  parlour  to 
sleep  in  her  own  garret,  A\ith  the  snow  on  the  roof,  scanty 
clothing  on  the  bed,  and  the  rats  in  the  floor.  But  there  are 
two  sides  to  a  contrast ;  and  it  is  wonderful  also  how  one  gets 
through  what  one  cannot  get  out  of. 

A  certain  change  in  the  Bruce-habits,  leading  to  important 
results  for  Annie,  must  now  be  recorded. 

Robert  Bruce  was  making  money,  but  not  so  fast  as  he 
wished.  For  his  returns  came  only  in  small  sums,  although  the 
profits  were  great.  His  customers  were  chiefly  of  the  poorer 
classes  of  the  town  and  the  neighbourhood,  who  preferred  his 
unpretending  shop  to  the  more  showy  establishments  of  some 
of  his  rivals.  A  sort  of  couthy,  pauky,  confidentially  flattering 
way  that  he  had  wath  them,  pleased  them,  and  contributed 
greatly  to  keep  them  true  to  his  counter.  And  as  he  knew  how 
to  buy  as  well  as  how  to  sell,  the  poor  people,  if  they  had  not 
the  worth  of  their  money,  had  at  least  what  was  good  of  its 
sort.  But,  as  I  have  said,  although  he  was  making  haste  to 
be  rich,  he  was  not  succeeding  fast  enough.  So  he  bethought 
hiiu  that  the  Missionar  Kirk  was  getting  "  verra  throng." 

A  month  or  two  before  this  time,  the  Missionars  had  made 
choice  of  a  very  able  man  for  their  pastor — a  man  of  genuine 
aud  strong  religious  feeling,  who  did  not  allow  his  theology  to 
interfere  with  the  teaching  given  him  by  Grod's  Spirit  more  than 


162  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

he  could  help,  and  who,  if  he  had  been  capable  of  making  a  pai'tj 
at  all,  would  have  made  it  with  the  poor  against  the  rich.  This 
man  had  gathered  about  him  a  large  congregation  of  the  lower 
classes  of  Glamerton ;  and  Bruce  had  learned  with  some  un- 
easiness that  a  considerable  portion  of  his  customers  Avas  to  be 
found  in  the  Missionar  Kirk  on  Sundays,  especially  in  the  even- 
ings. For  there  was  a  grocer  amongst  the  Missionars,  who,  he 
feared,  might  draw  some  of  his  subjects  away  from  their  allegi- 
ance, seeing  he  must  have  a  certain  religious  influence  of  which 
Eobert  was  void,  to  bring  to  bear  upon  them.  What  therefore 
remained  but  that  he  too  should  join  the  congregation  ?  For 
then  he  would  not  only  retain  the  old,  but  have  a  chance  of 
gaining  new  customers  as  well.  So  he  took  a  week  to  think 
about  it,  a  Sunday  to  hear  Mr  Turnbull  in  order  that  the  change 
might  not  seem  too  abrupt,  and  a  pew  under  the  gallery  before 
the  next -Sunday  arrived ;  in  which,  five  minutes  before  the 
hour,  he  and  his  family  were  seated,  adding  greatly  to  the  con- 
sequence both  of  the  place  and  of  himself  in  the  eyes  of  his 
Missionar  customers. 

This  change  was  a  source  of  much  pleasure  to  Annie.  For 
although  she  found  the  service  more  wearisome  than  good  Mr 
Cowie's,  lasting  as  it  did  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour  longer 
and  the  sermon  was  not  invariably  of  a  kind  in  whicli  she  could 
feel  much  interest,  yet,  occasionally,  when  Mr  Turnbull  was  in 
his  better  moods,  and  testified  of  that  which  he  had  himself 
seen  and  known,  the  honest  heart  of  the  maiden  recognized  the 
truth,  and  listened  absorbed.  The  young  Bruces,  for  their 
parts,  would  gladly  have  gone  to  sleep,  which  would  perhaps 
have  been  the  most  profitable  use  to  which  tliey  could  put  the 
time ;  but  they  were  kept  upright  and  in  a  measure  awake,  by 
the  constant  application,  "  spikewise,"  of  the  paternal  elbow, 
and  the  judicious  administration,  on  the  part  of  the  mother,  of 
the  unfailing  peppermint  lozenges,  to  which  in  the  process  of 
ages  a  certain  sabbatical  character  has  attached  itself  To 
Annie,  however,  no  such  ministration  extended,  for  it  would 
have  been  downright  waste,  seeing  she  could  keep  awake 
without  it. 
^  One  bright  frosty  morning,  the  sermon  happening  to  have 
'  no  relation  to  the  light  around  or  within  them,  but  only  to  the 
covenant  made  with  Abraham — such  a  legal  document  consti- 
tuting the  only  reliable  protection  against  the  character,  in- 
clinations, and  duties  of  the  Almighty,  whose  uucovenauted 
mercies  are  of  a  very  doubtful  nature — Annie,  neither  able  to 
enter  into  the  subject,  nor  to  keep  from  shivering  with  the  cold, 
tried  to  amuse  herself  with  <raziu<:  at  one  brilliant  sun-streak  ou 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX.  163 

the  wall,  which  she  had  discovered  to  be  gradually  shortening 
itself,  and  retreating  towards  the  window  by  which  it  had  en- 
tered. Wondering  how  far  it  would  have  moved  before  the 
sermon  was  over,  and  whether  it  would  have  shone  so  very 
bright  if  God  had  made  no  covenant  with  Abraham,  she  was 
earnestly  watching  it  pass  from  spot  to  spot,  and  from  cobweb 
to  cobweb,  as  if  already  it  fled  before  the  coming  darkness  of 
the  long  wintert  night,  when  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  very 
peculiar  countenance  turned  in  the  same  dii'ection — that  is,  not 
towards  the  minister,  but  towards  this  travelling  light.  She 
thought  the  woman  was  watching  it  as  well  as  she,  and  wondered 
whether  she  too  was  hoping  for  a  plate  of  hot  broth  as  soon  as 
the  sunbeam  had  gone  a  certain  distance — broth  being  the  Sun- 
day fare  with  the  Bruces — and,  I  presume,  with  most  families 
in  Scotland.  The  countenance  was  very  plain,  seamed  and 
scarred  as  if  the  woman  had  fallen  into  the  fire  when  a  child  ; 
and  Annie  had  not  looked  at  her  two  seconds,  before  she  saw 
that  she  was  perfectly  blind.  Indeed  she  thought  at  first  that 
she  had  no  eyes  at  all ;  but  as  she  kept  gazing,  fascinated  with 
the  strangeness  and  ugliness  of  the  face,  she  discovered  that  the 
eyelids,  though  incapable  of  separating,  were  in  constant  motion, 
and  that  a  shrunken  eye-ball  underneath  each  kept  rolling  and 
turning  ever,  as  if  searching  for  something  it  could  not  find. 
She  saw  too  that  there  was  a  light  on  the  face,  a  light  which 
came  neither  from  the  sun  in  the  sky,  nor  the  sunbeam  on  the 
wall,  towards  which  it  was  unconsciously  turned.  I  think  it 
must  have  been  the  heavenly  bow  itself,  shining  upon  all  human 
clouds — a  bow  that  had  shone  for  thousands  of  ages  before  ever 
there  was  an  Abraham,  or  a  Noah,  or  any  other  of  our  faithless 
generation,  which  will  not  trust  its  God  unless  he  swear  that 
he  will  not  destroy  them.  It  was  the  ugliest  face.  But  over 
it,  as  over  the  rugged  channel  of  a  sea,  flowed  the  transparent 
waves  of  a  heavenly  delight. 

When  the  service  was  over,  almost  before  the  words  of  the 
benediction  had  left  the  minister's  lips,  the  people,  according  to 
Scotch  habit,  hurried  out  of  the  chapel,  as  if  they  could  not 
possibly  endure  one  word  more.  But  Annie,  who  was  always 
put  up  to  the  top  of  the  pew,  because  there,  by  reason  of  an  in- 
truding pillar,  it  required  a  painful  twist  of  the  neck  to  see  the 
minister,  stood  staring  at  the  blind  woman  as  she  felt  her  way 
out  of  the  chapel.  There  was  no  fear  of  putting  her  out  by 
staring  at  her.  "When,  at  length,  she  followed  her  into  the  open 
air,  she  found  her  standing  by  the  door,  turning  her  sightless 
face  on  all  sides,  as  if  looking  for  some  one  and  trying  hard  to 
open  her  eyes  that  she  might  see  better.     Annie  watched  her, 


164  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

till,  seeing  her  lips  move,  she  knew,  half  bj  instinct,  that  she 
was  murmuring,  "  The  bairn's  forgotten  me  !  "  Thereupon  she 
glided  up  to  her  and  said  gently  : 

"  If  ye'll  tell  me  whaur  ye  bide,  I  s'  tak  ye  hame." 

"  What  do  they  ca'  you,  bairn  ?  "  returned  the  blind  woman, 
in  a  gruff,  almost  manlike  voice,  hardly  less  unpleasant  to  hear 
than  her  face  was  to  look  at. 

"  Annie  Anderson,"  answered  Annie. 

"  Ow,  ay  !  I  thoucht  as  muckle.  I  ken  a'  aboot  ye.  Gie's 
a  baud  o'  yer  ban'.  I  bide  i'  that  wee  boosie  down  at  the  brig, 
atween  the  dam  and  the  Glamour,  ye  ken.  Ye'll  baud  me  aff 
o'  the  stanes  ?  " 

"  Ay  will  I  '  answered  Annie  confidently. 

"  I  could  gang  my  lane,  but  I'm  growin'  someauldnoo,  and 
I'm  jist  raither  feared  for  fa'iu'." 

"  What  garred  ye  think  it  was  me — I  never  spak  till  \Q 
afore  ?  "  asked  Annie,  as  they  walked  on  together. 

"  Weel,  it's  jist  half  guissin',  an'  half  a  kin'  o'  jeedgment — 
pittin  things  thegither,  ye  ken,  my  bairn.  Ye  see,  I  kent  a'  the 
bairns  that  come  to  oor  kirk  weel  eneuch  already.  I  ken  the 
word  and  amaist  the  fit  o'  them.  And  I  had  heard  tell  'at  Maister 
Bruce  was  come  to  oor  kirk.  Sae  when  a  lassie  spak  till  me 
'at  I  never  saw  afore,  I  jist  a  kin'  o'  kent  'at  it  bude  to  be 
yersei'." 

All  this  was  spoken  in  the  same  harsh  voice,  full  of  jars,  as 
if  ever  driving  against  corners,  and  ready  to  break  into  a  hoarse 
whisper.  But  the  woman  held  Annie's  hand  kindly,  and  yielded 
like  a  child  to  her  guidance  which  was  as  careful  as  that  of  the 
angel  that  led  Peter. 

It  was  a  new  delight  to  Annie  to  have  some  one  to  whom 
she  a  child  could  be  a  kind  of  mother,  towards  whom  she  could 
fulfil  a  woman's  highest  calling — that  oi  ministering  unto;  and 
it  was  with  something  of  a  sacred  pride  that  she  led  her  safe 
home,  through  the  snowy  streets,  and  down  the  steep  path  that 
led  from  the  level  of  the  bridge,  with  its  three  high  stone  arches, 
to  the  little  meadow  where  her  cottage  stood.  Before  they 
reached  it,  the  blind  woman,  whose  name  was  Tibbie  (Isabel) 
Dyster,  had  put  many  questions  to  her,  and  witliout  asking  one 
indiscreet,  had  yet,  by  her  gift  for  fitting  and  fusing  things  in 
the  retort  of  her  own  brain,  come  to  a  tolerably  correct  know- 
ledge of  her  character,  circumstances,  and  history. 

As  soon  as  they  entered  the  cottage,  Tibbie  was  entirely  at 
her  ease.  Tlie  first  thing  slie  did  was  to  lift  the  kettle  from  the 
fire,  and  feel  tlie  fire  witli  her  hands  in  order  to  find  out  in  what 
condition  it  was.     She  would  not  allow  Annie  to  touch  it:  she 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEX.  165 

could  not  trust  tTie  creature  that  had  nothing  but  eyes  to  guide 
her,  with  such  a  delicate  affair.  Her  very  hands  looked  blind 
and  trying  to  see,  as,  with  fine  up-curved  tips,  they  went  wander- 
ing over  the  tops  of  the  live  peats.  She  re-arranged  them,  put 
on  some  fresh  pieces,  blew  a  little  at  them  all  astray  and  to  no 
purpose,  was  satisfied,  coughed,  and  sank  upon  a  chair,  to  put 
her  bonnet  off.  Most  women  of  her  station  wore  only  a  muteli 
or  close  cap,  but  Tibbie  wore  a  bonnet  with  a  brilliantly  gay 
ribbon,  so  fond  was  she  of  bright  colours,  although  she  had  no- 
thing but  the  testimony  of  others,  vague  enough  ere  it  succeeded 
in  crossing  the  dark  distances  of  her  brain,  as  to  the  effect  of 
those  even  with  which  she  adorned  her  own  person.  Her  room 
was  very  bare,  but  as  clean  as  it  was  possible  for  room  to  be. 
Her  bed  was  in  the  wall  which  divided  it  from  the  rest  of  the 
house,  and  this  one  room  was  her  whole  habitation.  The  other 
half  of  the  cottage  was  occupied  by  an  old  cripple,  nearly  bed- 
ridden, to  whose  many  necessities  Tibbie  used  to  minister.  The 
eyes  of  the  one  and  the  legs  of  the  other  worked  in  tolerable 
harmony ;  and  if  they  had  a  quarrel  now  and  then,  it  was  no 
greater  than  gave  a  zest  to  their  intercourse.  These  particulars, 
however,  Annie  did  not  learn  till  afterwards. 

She  looked  all  about  the  room,  and  seeing  no  sign  of  any 
dinner  for  Tibbie,  was  reminded  thereby  that  her  own  chance  had 
considerably  diminished. 

"  I  maun  awa  hame,"  she  said  with  a  sigh. 

"  Ay,  lassie  ;  they'll  be  bidin'  their  denner  for  ye." 

"  Na,  nae  fear  o'  that,"  answered  Annie,  adding  with  another 
little  sigh,  "  I  doot  there  winna  be  muekle  o'  the  broth  to  the 
fore  or  I  win  hame." 

"  Weel  jist  bide,  bairn,  an'  tak'  a  cup  o'tay  wi'  me.  It's  a' 
'at  I  hae  to  offer  ye.     Will  ye  bide  ?  " 

"  Maybe  I  wad  be  i'  yer  gait,"  objected  Annie  feebly. 

"  Na,  na ;  nae  fear  o'  that.  Ye'll  read  a  bit  to  me 
efterhin." 

"  Ay  will  I." 

And  Annie  stayed  all  the  afternoon  with  Tibbie,  and  went 
home  with  the  Bruces  after  the  evening  service.  This  was  the 
beginning  of  her  acquaintance  with  Tibbie  Dyster. 

It  soon  grew  into  a  custom  for  Annie  to  take  Tibbie  home 
from  the  chapel — a  custom  which  the  Brucss  could  hardly  have 
objected  to,  had  they  been  so  inclined.  But  they  were  not  so 
inclined,  for  it  saved  the  broth — that  is,  each  of  them  got  a  little 
more  in  consequence,  and  Annie's  absence  was  therefore  a  Sab- 
bath blessing. 

Much  as  she  was  neglected  at  home,  however,  Annie  was 


166  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

steadily  gaining  a  good  reputation  in  tlie  town.  Old  men  said 
she  was  a  gude  bairn,  and  old  women  said  she  was  a  douce 
lassie  ;  while  those  who  enjoyed  finding  fault  more  than  gi\^ng 
praise,  turned  their  silent  approbation  of  Annie  into  expressions 
of  disapproval  of  the  Bruces — "  lattin'  her  gang  like  a  beggar, 
as  gin  she  was  no  kith  or  kin  o'  theirs,  whan  it's  weel  kent  whase 
heifer  Rob  Bruce  is  plooin'  wi'." 

But  Robert  nevertheless  grew  and  prospered  all  day,  and 
dreamed  at  night  that  he  was  the  king,  digging  the  pits  for  the 
English  cavalxy,  and  covering  them  again  with  the  treacherous 
turf.  Somehow  the  dream  never  went  further.  The  field  and 
the  kingship  would  vanish  and  he  only  remain,  the  same 
Robert  Bruce,  the  general  dealer,  plotting  still,  but  in  his 
own  shop. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


Responsive  to  Mr  Cupples's  last  words  uttered  from  the 
brink  of  the  pit  into  which  his  spirit  was  sinking,  and  probably 
forgotten  straightway.  Alec  knocked  at  his  door  upon  the  Sun- 
day evening,  and  entered.  The  strange  creature  was  sitting  in 
the  same  position  as  before,  looking  as  if  he  had  not  risen  since 
he  spoke  those  words.  But  there  was  an  alteration  in  the  place, 
a  certain  Sunday  look  about  the  room,  which  Alec  could  not 
account  for.  The  same  caricatures  jested  from  the  walls  ;  the 
same  tumbler  of  toddy  was  steaming  on  the  table  amidst  tiie 
same  litter  of  books  and  papers  covered  with  the  same  dust  and 
marked  with  the  same  circles  from  the  bottoms  of  wet  tumblers 
and  glasses.  The  same  cutty-clay,  of  enviable  blackness,  reposed 
between  the  teeth  of  Mr  Cupples. 

After  he  had  been  seated  for  a  few  moments,  however.  Alec 
all  at  once  discovered  the  source  of  the  reformation-look  of  the 
place  :  Mr  Cupples  had  on  a  shirt-collar — clean  and  of  imposing 
proportions.  To  this  no  doubt  was  attached  a  shirt,  but  as 
there  was  no  further  sign  of  its  presence,  it  could  not  have 
affected  the  aspect  of  things.  Although,  however,  this  shirt- 
collar  was  no  doubt  the  chief  cause  of  the  change  of  expression 
in  the  room.  Alec,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  discovered 
further  signs  of  improvement  in  the  local  morals  ;  one,  tliat  the 
hearth  had  been  cleared  of  a  great  heap  of  ashes,  and  now  looked 
modest  and  moderate  as  if  belonging  to  an  old  maid's  cottage, 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  167 

instead  of  an  old  bachelor's  garret ;  and  another,  that,  upon  the 
untidy  table,  lay  an  open  book  of  divinity,  a  volume  of  GrurnaH's 
Christian  Armour  namely,  which  I  fear  Mr  Cupples  had  chosen 
more  for  its  wit  than  its  devotion.  While  making  these  dis- 
coveries. Alec  chanced  to  observe — he  was  quick-eyed — that 
some  of  the  dusty  papers  on  the  table  were  scrawled  over  with 
the  first  amorphous  appearance  of  metrical  composition.  These 
moved  his  curiosity  ;  for  what  kind  of  poetry  could  the  most 
unpoetic-looking  Mr  Cupples  produce  from  that  great  head  of 
his  with  the  lanky  colourless  hair  ? — But  meantime  we  must  re- 
turn to  the  commencement  of  the  interview. 

"  Ony  mair  Greek,  laddie  ?  "  asked  Mr  Cupples. 

"  No,  thank  you,  sir,"  answered  Alec.  "  I  only  came  to  see 
you.     You  told  me  to  come  again  to-night." 

"  Did  I  ?  Well,  it  may  stand.  But  I  protest  against  being 
made  accountable  for  anything  that  fellow  Cupples  may  choose 
to  say  when  I'm  not  at  home." 

Here  he  emptied  his  glass  of  toddy,  and  filled  it  again  from 
the  tumbler. 

"  Shall  I  go  away  ?  "  asked  Alec,  half  bewildered. 

•'  No,  no ;  sit  still.  You're  a  good  sort  of  innocent,  I 
think.  I  won't  give  you  any  toddy  though.  You  needn't  look 
so  greedy  at  it." 

"  I  don't  want  any  toddy,  sir.  I  never  drank  a  tumbler  in 
my  life." 

"  For  God's  sake,"  exclaimed  Mr  Cupples,  with  sudden 
energy,  leaning  forward  in  his  chair,  his  blue  eyes  flashing 
on  Alec — "  for  God's  sake,  never  drink  a  drop. — Rainbows. 
Eainbows," 

These  last  two  words  were  spoken  after  a  pause,  and  in  a 
tone  of  sadness.  Alec  thought  he  was  drunk  again,  and  half 
rose  to  go. 

"  Dinna  gang  yet,"  said  Mr  Cupples,  authoritatively.  "  Ye 
come  at  yer  ain  will :  ye  maun  gang  at  mine. — Gin  I  cud  but 
get  a  kick  at  that  fellow  Cupples  !  But  I  declare  I  canna  help 
it.  Gin  I  war  God,  I  wad  cure  him  o'  drink.  It's  the  vei*ra 
first  thing  I  wad  do." 

Alec  could  not  help  being  shocked  at  the  irreverence  of 
the  words.  But  the  solemnity  of  Mr  Cupples's  face  speedily 
dissipated  the  feeling.  Suddenly  changing  his  tone,  he 
went  on : 

"  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"Alee  Forbes." 

"Alec  Forbes.  I'll  try  to  remember  it.  I  seldom  re- 
member anybody's  name,  though.      I  sometimes   forget   my 


168  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

own.     "What  was  the  fellow's  name  you  thraslied  tlie  otlier 
day?" 

"  Patrick  Beauchamp.     I  did  not  mention  it  before." 
"  The  deevil  it  was  !  "  exclaimed  Mr  Cupples,  half-starting 
from  his  seat.     "  Bid  ye  gie  him  a  richt  thrashin'  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  had  the  worst  of  it.     He  gave  in,  any  way." 
"  He  comes  of  a  bad  lot !     I  know  all  about  them.     They're 
from  Strathspey,  where  my  father  came  from — at  least  his  father 
was.     If  the  young  fellow  turns  out  well,  it'll  be  a  wonder.    I'll 
tell  you  all  about  them." 

Mr  Cupples  here  launched  into  a  somewhat  discursive  ac- 
count of  Patrick  Beauchamp's  antecedents,  indicating  by  its 
minuteness  that  there  must  have  been  personal  relations  of 
some  kind  between  them  or  their  families.  Perhaps  he  glanced 
at  something  of  the  sort  when  he  said  that  old  Beauchamp  was 
a  hard  man  even  for  a  lawyer.  I  will  condense  the  story  from 
the  more  diffuse  conversational  narrative,  interrupted  by  ques- 
tion and  remark  on  the  part  of  Alec,  and  give  it  the  shape  of 
formal  history. 

Beauchamp's  mother  was  the  daughter  of  a  Highland  chief, 
whose  pedigree  went  back  to  an  Irish  king  of  date  so  remote 
that  his  existence  was  doubtful  to  every  one  not  personally  in- 
terested in  the  extraction.  Mrs  Beauchamp  had  all  the  fierce- 
ness without  much  of  the  grace  belonging  to  the  Celtic  nature. 
Her  pride  of  family,  even,  had  not  prevented  her  from  revenging 
herself  upon  her  father,  who  had  offended  her,  by  running  away 
with  a  handsome  AV.S.,  who,  taken  with  her  good  looks,  and 
flattered  by  the  notion  of  overcoming  her  pride,  had  found  a 
conjunction  of  circumstances  favourable  to  the  conquest.  It 
was  not  long,  however,  before  both  repented  of  the  step.  That 
her  father  should  disown  lier  was  not  of  much  consequence  in 
any  point  of  view,  but  that  nobody  in  Edinburgh  would  admit 
her  claims  to  distinction — which  arose  from  the  fact  that  they 
were  so  unpleasantly  asserted  that  no  one  could  endure  herself 
— did  disgust  her  considerably  ;  and  her  annoyance  found  vent 
in  abuse  of  her  husband  for  having  failed  to  place  her  in  the 
sphere  to  which  she  had  a  just  claim.  The  consequence  was, 
that  he  neglected  her ;  and  she  sat  at  home  brooding  over  her 
wrongs,  despising  and  at  length  hating  her  husband,  and  medi- 
tating plans  of  revenge  as  soon  as  her  child  should  be  born. 
At  length,  within  three  months  after  the  birth  of  Patrick,  she 
found  that  he  was  unfaithful  to  her,  and  immediately  demanded 
a  separate  maintenance.  To  this  her  husband  made  no  further 
objection  than  policy  required.  But  when  she  proceeded  to 
impose  an  oath  upon  him  that  he  would  never  take  her  child 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  1G9 

from  her,  the  heart  of  the  father  demurred.  "Whereupon  she 
swore  that,  if  ever  he  made  the  attempt,  she  would  poison  the 
child  rather  thau  that  he  should  succeed.  He  turned  pale  as 
death,  and  she  saw  that  she  had  gained  her  point.  And,  indeed, 
the  woman  was  capable  of  anything  to  which  she  had  made  up 
her  mind — a  power  over  one's  self  and  friends  not  desirable  ex- 
cept in  view  of  such  an  object  as  that  of  Lady  Macbeth.  But 
Mrs  Beauchamp,  like  her,  considered  it  only  a  becoming  strength 
of  spirit,  and  would  have  despised  herself  if  sue  had  broken  one 
resolution  for  another  indubitably  better.  So  her  husband  bade 
her  farewell,  and  made  no  lamentation  except  over  the  probable 
result  of  such  training  as  the  child  must  receive  at  the  hands 
of  such  a  mother.  She  withdrew  to  a  country  town  not  far 
from  the  Moray  Frith,  where  she  might  live  comfortably  on  her 
small  income,  be  a  person  of  some  consideration,  ^nd  reap  all 
the  advantages  of  the  peculiar  facilities  which  the  place  afforded 
for  the  education  of  her  boy,  whom  she  would  mould  and  model 
after  her  own  heart. 

"  So  you  see,  Mr — I  forget  yer  name — Forbes  ?  yes,  Forbes, 
if  the  rascal  takes  after  his  mother,  you  have  made  a  dangerous 
enemy,"  said  Mr  Cupples,  in  conclusion. 

Alec  laughed. 

"  I  advise  you,"  resumed  Mr  Cupples,  "  to  keep  a  gleg  ee 
in  yer  heid,  though — seriously.  A  body  may  lauch  ower  aften. 
It  wiuna  do  to  gang  glowerin'  at  raiubows.  They're  bonnie 
things,  but  they're  nae  brig-backs.  Gin  ye  lippen  to  them,  ye'U 
be  i'  the  water  in  a  cat-loup." 

Alec  was  beginning  to  enter  into  the  humour  of  the  man. 

"  I  see  something  like  poetry  lying  about  the  table,  Mr 
Cupples,"  said  he,  with  a  sly  allusion  to  the  rainbows.  "  AYould 
you  let  me  look  at  it  ?  " 

Mr  Cupples  glanced  at  him  sharply ;  but  replied  im- 
mediately : 

'  ''  Broken  bits  o'  them  !  And  the  rainbows  cast  (Jose  colour') 
awfu',  ance  ye  tak'  the  key-stane  oot  o'  them.  Lat  them  sit 
up  there,  brigs  (bridges')  ower  naethiug,  wi'  nae  road  upo'  the 
tap  o'  them,  like  the  stane  brig  o'  Drumdochart  efter  the  spate 
(flood).  Hand  yer  ban's  and  yer  een  aff  o'  them,  as  I  tellt  ye 
afore. — Ay,  ay,  ye  can  luik  at  thae  screeds  gin  ye  like.  Only 
dinna  say  a  word  to  me  aboot  ony  o'  them.  And  tak'  warnin' 
by  them  yersel,  never  to  w'rite  ae  word  o'  poetry,  to  hand  ye 
frae  rivin'." 

"  Sma'  fear  o'  that !  "  returned  Alec,  laughing. 

"  AVeel,  I  houp  sae. — Ye  can  mak  a  kirk  an'  a  mill  o'  them, 
gin  ye  like.     They  hae  lain  there  laug  eneuch.     JN^oo,  baud  yer 


170  ALEC    FORBES     OF    HOWGLEN. 

tongue.  I'm  gaein  to  fill  my  pipe  again,  afore  I  burn  cot  the 
dottle.  I  winna  drink  mair  the  nicht,  cause  it's  the  Sabbath, 
and  I'm  gaein  to  read  my  buik." 

So  saying,  he  proceeded  to  get  the  dottle  out  of  his  pipe,  by 
knocking  it  on  the  hob  ;  while  Alec  took  up  the  paper  that  lay 
nearest.  He  found  it  contained  a  fragment  of  a  poem  in  the 
Scotch  language;  and,  searching  amongst  the  rest  of  the  scattered 
sheets,  he  soon  got  the  whole  of  it  together. 

JS'ow,  although  Alec  had  but  little  acquaintance  with  verse, 
he  was  able,  thanks  to  Annie  Anderson,  to  enjoy  a  ballad  very 
heartily  ;  and  there  was  something  in  this  one  which,  as- 
sociating itself  in  his  mind  with  the  strange  being  before 
him,  moved  him  more  than  he  could  account  for.  It  was 
called 

TIME  AND  TIDE. 

As  I  was  walkin'  on  the  strand, 

I  spied  an  auld  man  sit 
On  ane  auld  rock ;  and  aye  the  waves 

Cam  washin'  to  its  fit. 
And  aye  his  lips  gaed  mutterin', 
Andi  his  ee  was  dull  and  blae. 
As  I  cam  near,  he  luik'd  at  me, 
But  this  was  a'  his  say  : 
"  Eobhie  and  Jeannie  war  twa  bonnie  bairns, 
And  they  played  thegitlier  upo'  the  shore : 
Up  cam  the  tide  'tween  the  mune  and  the  sterns, 
And  pairtit  the  twa  wi'  an  eerie  roar. " 

What  can  the  anld  man  mean,  quo'  I, 

Sittin'  upo'  the  auld  rock  } 
The  tide  creeps  up  wi'  moan  and  cry, 

And  a  hiss  'maist  like  a  mock. 
The  words  he  mutters  maun  be  the  en' 

0'  a  weary  dreary  sang — 
A  deid  thing  floatin'  in  his  brain, 
That  the  tide  will  no  lat  gang. 
"  Robbie  and  Jeannie  war  twa  bonnie  bairns. 
And  they  played  thegither  upo'  the  shore  : 
Up  cam  the  tide  'tween  the  mune  and  the  sterns. 
And  pairtit  the  twa  wi'  an  eerie  roar." 

What  pairtit  them,  auld  man  .•'  I  said ; 

Did  the  tide  come  up  owcr  Strang .' 
'Twas  a  braw  dcith  for  thmn  that  gaed, 

Their  troubles  warna  lang. 
Or  was  ane  ta'cn,  and  the  ither  left — 

Ane  to  sing,  ane  to  greet  ? 
It's  sair,  richt  sail',  to  be  bereft, 

But  the  tide  is  at  yer  feet. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  171 

"  Robbie  and  Jeannie  ■war  twa  bonnie  bairns, 
And  they  played  thegither  upo'  the  shore  : 
Up  cam  the  tide  'tween  the  mune  and  the  sterns, 
And  pairtit  the  twa  wi'  an  eerie  roar." 

Maybe,  quo'  I,  'twas  Time's  gray  sea, 

Whase  droonin'  's  -waur  to  bide  ; 
But  Death's  a  diver,  seekin'  ye 

Aneath  its  chokin'  tide. 
And  ye'Il  luik  in  ane  anither's  ee 

Triumphin'  ovrer  gray  Time. 
But  never  a  word  he  answered  me, 
But  ower  wi'  his  dreary  chime — 
"  Robbie  and  Jeannie  war  twa  bonnie  bairns. 
And  they  played  thegither  upo'  the  shore  : 
Up  cam  the  tide  'tween  the  mune  and  the  stems, 
And  pairtit  the  twa  wi'  an  eerie  roar." 

Maybe,  auld  man,  said  I,  'twas  Change 

That  crap  atween  the  twa  ? 
Hech  !  that's  a  droonin'  awfu'  strange, 

Ane  waur  than  ane  and  a'. 
He  spak  nae  mair.     I  luik't  and  saw 

That  the  auld  lips  cudna  gang. 
The  tide  unseen  took  him  awa — 
Left  me  to  end  his  sang  : 
"  Robbie  and  Jeannie  war  twa  bonnie  bairns, 
And  they  played  thegither  upo'  the  shore  : 
Up  cam  the  tide  'tween  the  mime  and  the  sterns, 
And  tuik  them  whaur  pairtin'  shall  be  no  more." 

Before  he  had  finished  reading,  the  refrain  had  become  so 
familiar  to  Alec,  that  he  unconsciously  murmured  the  last, 
changed  as  it  Tvas  from  the  preceding  form,  aloud.  Mr  Cupples 
looked  up  from  Gurnall  uneasily,  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  and  said 
testily : 

"A' nonsense!  Moonshine  and  rainbows!  Haudyer tongue! 
The  last  line's  a'  wrang." 

He  then  returned  with  a  determined  air  to  the  consideration 
of  his  Ch'istian  Armour,  while  Alec,  in  whom  the  minor  tone  of 
the  poem  had  greatly  deepened  the  interest  he  felt  in  the  writer, 
gazed  at  him  in  a  bewilderment  like  that  one  feels  when  his 
eyes  refuse  to  take  their  proper  relation  to  the  perspective  be- 
fore them.  He  could  not  get  those  verses  and  Mr  Cupples  into 
harmony.  Not  daring  to  make  any  observation,  however,  he  sat 
with  the  last  leaf  still  in  his  hand,  and  a  reverential  stare  upon 
his  face,  which  at  length  produced  a  remarkable  effect  upon  the 
object  of  it.     Suddenly  lifting  his  eyes — 

"  What  are  ye  glowerin'  at  me  for?  "  he  exclaimed,  fling- 
ing his  book  from  him,  which,  missing  the  table,  fell  on  the 


J  72  ALEC    FORBES    OF    hJWGLEN. 

floor  on  the  furtliei'  side  of  it.  "  I'm  neither  gliaist  nor  war- 
lock. Damn  ye !  gang  oot,  gin  ye  be  gaun  to  stick  me  throu 
and  throu  wi'  yer  een,  that  gait." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr  Cupples.  I  didn't  mean  to  be 
rude,"  said  Alec  humbly. 

"  Weel,  cut  yer  stick.  I  hae  eneuch  o'  ye  for  ae  nicht.  I 
canna  stan'  glowerin'  een,  especially  i'  the  heids  o'  idiots  o' 
innocents  like  you.^' 

I  am  sorrjr  to  have  to  record  what  Alee  learned  from  the 
landlady  afterwards,  that  Mr  Cupples  went  to  bed  that  night, 
notwithstanding  it  was  the  Sabbath,  more  drunk  than  she 
had  ever  known  him.  Indeed  he  could  not  properly  be  said 
to  have  gone  to  bed  at  all,  for  he  had  tumbled  on  the  counter- 
pane in  his  clothes  and  clean  shirt-collar ;  where  she  had 
found  him  fast  asleep  the  next  morning,  with  Gurnall's  Chris- 
tian Armour  terribly  crumpled  under  him. 

"  But,"  said  Alec,  "  what  is  Mr  Cupples  ?  " 

"  That's  a  queston  he  cudna  weel  answer  ye  himsel',"  was 
the  reply.  "  He  does  a  heap  o'  things ;  writes  for  the  law- 
yers whiles ;  buys  and  sells  queer  bulks ;  gies  lessons  in 
Greek  and  Hebrew — but  he  disua  like  that — 'he  canna  bide 
to  be  centred,  and  laddies  is  gey  contresome ;  helps  onybody 
that  wants  help  i'  the  way  o'  figures — whan  their  bulks  gang 
wrang  ye  ken,  for  figures  is  some  ill  for  jummlin'.  He's  a 
kin'  o'  librarian  at  yer  ain  college  i'  the  noo,  Mr  Forbes. 
The  auld  man's  deid,  and  Mr  Cupples  is  jist  doin'  the  wark. 
They  winna  gie  him  the  place — 'cause  he  has  an  ill  name  for 
drink — but  they'll  get  as  muckle  wark  oot  o'  him  as  gin  they 
did,  and  for  half  the  siller.  The  body  hands  at  onything  weel 
eneuch  a'  day,  but  the  minute  he  comes  hame,  oot  comes  the 
tappit  hen,  and  he  jist  sits  doon  and  drinks  till  he  turns  the 
warl  upo'  the  tap  o'  'm." 

The  next  day,  about  noon,  Alee  went  into  the  library, 
where  he  found  Mr  Cupples  busy  re-arranging  the  books  and 
the  catalogue,  both  of  which  had  been  neglected  for  years. 
This  was  the  first  of  many  visits  to  the  library,  or  rather  to 
the  librarian. 

There  was  a  certain  mifzy  sobriety  of  demeanour  about 
Mr  Cupples  all  daylong,  as  if  in  the  presence  of  such  serious 
things  as  books  he  was  bound  to  be  upon  his  good  behaviour, 
and  confine  his  dissipation  to  taking  snutf  in  prodigious 
quantities.  He  was  full  of  information  about  books,  and  had, 
besides,  opinions  concerning  them,  which  were  always  ready 
to  assume  quaint  and  decided  expression.  For  instance:  one 
afternoon,  Alec  having  taken  up  Tristram  Shandy  and  asked 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HO^VGLEN.  173 

him  what  kind  of  a  book  it  was,  the  pro-librarian  snatched  it 
from  his  hands  and  put  it  on  the  shelf  again,  answering : 

"  A  pailace  o'  dirt  and  impidence  and  speeritual  stink. 
The  clever  deevil  had  his  entrails  in  his  breest  and  his  hert 
in  his  belly,  and  regairdet  neither  God  nor  his  ain  mither. 
His  lauchter's  no  like  the  cracklin'  o'  thorns  unner  a  pot,  but 
like  the  nicherin'  o'  a  deil  ahin'  the  wainscot.  Lat  him  sit 
and  rot  there !  " 

Asking  him  another  day  what  sort  of  poet  Shelley  was, 
Alec  received  the  answer  : 

"  A  bonny  cratur,  wi'  mair  thochts  nor  there  was  room  for 
i'  the  bit  heid  o'  'm.  Consequently  he  gaed  staiggerin'  aboot 
as  gin  he  had  been  tied  to  the  tail  o'  an  inveesible  balloon. 
Unco  licht  heidit,  but  no  muckle  hairm  in  him  by  natur'." 

He  never  would  remain  in  the  library  after  the  day  began 
to  ebb.  The  moment  he  became  aware  that  the  first  filmy 
shadow  had  fallen  from  the  coming  twilight,  he  caught  up  his 
hat,  locked  the  door,  gave  the  key  to  the  sacrist,  and  hurried 
away. 

The  friendly  relation  between  the  two  struck  its  roots 
deeper  and  deeper  during  the  session,  and  Alec  bade  him 
good-bye  with  regret. 

Mr  Cupples  was  a  baffled  poet  trying  to  be  a  humourist"! 
— baffled — not  by  the  booksellers   or  the  public— for  such    , 
baffling  one  need  not  have  a  profound  sympathy — but  baffled 
by  his  own  weakness,  his  incapacity  for  assimilating  sorrow,    > 
his  inability  to  find  or  invent  a  theory  of  the  universe  which 
should  show  it   still  beautiful   despite   of  passing   pain,   of 
checked  aspiration,  of  the  ruthless  storms  that  lay  waste  the 
Edens  of  men,  and  dissolve  the  high  triumph  of  their  rain- 
bows.    He  had  yet  to  learn  that  through  "  the  heartache  and 
the  thousand  natural  shocks  that  flesh  is  heir  to,"  man  be- 
comes capable  of  the  blessedness  to  which  all  the  legends  of 
a  golden  age  point.     ISTot  finding,  when  he  most  needed  it, 
such  a  theory  even  in  the  New  Testament — for  he  had  been 
diligently  taught  to  read  it  awry- — Mr  Cupj^les  took  to  jest- 
ing and  toddy;  but,  haunting  the   doors   of  Humour,  never   I 
got  further  than  the  lobby.  " 

With  regard  to  Patrick  Beauchamp,  as  far  as  Alec  could 
see,  his  dignity  had  succeeded  in  consoling  itself  for  the  hu- 
miliation it  had  undergone,  by  an  absolute  and  eternal  re- 
nunciation of  all  knowledge  of  Alec  Forbes's  existence. 


174 


CHAPTEE  XL. 

Winter  had  begun  to  withdraw  his  ghostly  troops,  and 
Glamerton  began  to  grow  warmer.  Not  half  so  many  cold 
feet  dangled  from  the  cold  legs  of  little  children  in  the  tor- 
turing churches ;  not  half  so  many  coughs  tore  the  chests  of 
the  poor  old  men  and  women  as  they  stooped  over  their  little 
fires,  with  the  blasts  from  door  and  window-sill  in  their  ankles 
and  the  backs  of  their  necks.  Annie,  who  had  been  A^ery 
happy  all  the  time,  began  to  be  aware  of  something  more  at 
hand.  A  flutter  scarcely  recognizable,  as  of  the  wings  of 
awaking  delight,  would  stir  her  little  heart  with  a  sensation 
of  physical  presence  and  motion ;  she  would  find  herself 
giving  an  involuntary  skip  as  she  walked  along,  and  now  and 
then  humming  a  bit  of  a  psalm  tune.  A  hidden  well  was 
throbbing  in  the  child's  bosom.  Its  waters  had  been  frozen 
by  the  winter ;  and  the  spring,  which  sets  all  things  spring- 
ing, had  made  it  flow  and  swell  afresh,  soon  to  break  bubbling 
forth.  But  her  joy  was  gentle,  for  even  when  she  was  mer- 
riest, it  was  in  a  sober,  douce,  and  maidenly  fashion,  testifying 
that  she  had  already  walked  with  Sorrow,  and  was  not  afraid 
of  her. 

Robert  Bruce's  last  strategical  move  against  the  com- 
munity had  been  tolerably  successful,  even  in  his  own  eyes  ; 
and  he  was  consequently  so  far  satisfied  with  himself,  that  he 
could  aff'ord  to  be  in  good  humour  with  other  people.  Annie 
came  in  for  a  share  of  this  humour ;  and  although  she  knew 
him  too  well  to  have  any  regard  for  him,  it  was  yet  a  comfort 
to  her  to  be  on  such  terms  with  him  as  not  to  have  to  dread 
a  bitter  word  every  time  she  chanced  to  meet  him.  This 
comfort,  however,  stood  on  a  sandy  foundation ;  for  the  fact 
that  an  expected  customer  had  not  called  upon  the  Saturday 
might  be  enough  to  set  the  acetous  fermentation  at  work  all 
the  Sunday  in  the  bosom  of  Robert  Bruce. 

At  length,  one  bright  day  in  the  end  of  March,  Alee 
came  home,  not  the  worse  to  friendly  eyes  for  having  been  at 
college.  He  seemed  the  same  cheery,  active  youth  as  before. 
The  chief  differences  apparent  were,  that  he  had  grown  con- 
siderably, and  that  he  wore  a  coat.  The  hat,  at  that  time  a 
necessary  portion  of  the  college  costume,  he  had  discarded, 
wearing  his  old  cap  in  preference.  There  was  likewise  a  cer- 
tain indescribable  alteration  in  tone  and  manner,  a  certain 
general  ci-ystallizatiun  and  polish,  which  the  same  friends  re- 
garded as  an  indubitable  improvement. 


ALEC   rOKBES  OF   HOWGLEN.  175 

The  day  after  his  arrival,  crossing  the  square  of  Glamer- 
ton,  he  spied,  in  a  group  of  men  talking  together,  his  old 
friend,  Thomas  Crann.  He  went  up  and  shook  hands  with 
him,  and  with  Andrew  Constable,  the  clothier. 

"  Has  na  he  grown  a  lang  chield  ?  "  said  Andrew  to 
Thomas,  regarding  Alec  kindly. 

"  Humph !  "  returned  Thomas,  "  he'll  jist  need  the  lauger 
coffin." 

Alee  laughed  ;  but  Andrew  said,  "  Hoot !  hoot !  " 

Thomas  and  Alec  walked  away  together.  But  scarcely  a 
sentence  had  been  exchanged  before  the  stonemason,  with  a 
delicacy  of  perception  of  which  his  rough  manner  and  horny 
hands  gave  no  indication,  felt  that  a  film  of  separation  had 
come  between  the  youth  and  himself.  Anxious  to  break 
through  it,  he  said  abruptly, 

"  Hoo's  yer  immortal  pairt.  Alec  ?  Min'  ye,  there's  a 
knowledge  that  worketh  deith." 

Alec  laughed — not  scornfully — but  he  laughed. 

"  Te  may  lauch,  Alec,  but  it's  a  sair  trowth,"  said  the 
mason. 

Alec  held  out  his  hand,  for  here  their  way  diverged. 
Thomas  shook  it  kindly,  but  walked  away  gloomy.  Arrived 
at  home,  he  shut  to  his  door,  and  went  down  on  his  knees 
by  his  bedside.  "When  Jean  came  with  his  supper  she  found 
the  door  fast. 

In  order  to  prepare  for  the  mathematical  studies  of  the 
following  year,  Alec  went  to  the  school  again  in  the  morning 
of  most  days,  Mr  Malison  being  well  able  to  render  him  all 
the  assistance  he  required.  The  first  time  he  made  his  ap- 
pearance at  the  door,  a  silence  as  of  death  was  the  sign  of  his 
welcome;  but  a  tumult  presently  arose,  and  discipline  was 
for  a  time  suspended.  I  am  afraid  he  had  a  slight  feeling  of 
condescension,  as  he  returned  the  kind  greeting  of  his  old 
companions. — Raise  a  housemaid  to  be  cook,  and  she  will 
condescend  to  the  new  housemaid. 

Annie  sat  still,  staring  at  her  book,  and  turning  red  and 
pale  alternately.  But  he  took  no  notice  of  her,  and  she  tried 
to  be  glad  of  it. 

When  school  was  over,  however,  he  came  up  to  her  in  the 
lane,  and  addressed  her  kindly. 

But  the  delicate  little  maiden  felt,  as  the  rough  stone- 
mason had  felt,  that  a  change  had  passed  over  the  old  com- 
panion and  friend.  True,  the  change  Avas  only  a  breath — a 
mere  shadow.     Yet  it  was  a  measureless  ";ulf  between  them. 


176  AJ.EC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

Annie  went  to  lier  garret  that  night  with  a   sense    of  sad 
privation. 

But  her  pain  sprung  from  a  source  hardly  so  deep  as  that 
of  the  stonemason.  For  the  change  she  found  in  Alec  was 
chiefly  of  an  external  kind,  and  if  she  had  a  vague  feeling  of 
a  deeper  change,  it  had  scarcely  yet  come  up  into  her  con- 
sciousness. When  she  saw  the  young  gentleman  her  heart 
sank  within  her.  Her  friend  was  lost ;  and  a  shape  was  going 
about,  as  he  did,  looking  awfully  like  the  old  Alec,  who  had 
carried  her  in  his  arms  through  the  invading  torrent.  Nor 
was  there  wanting,  to  complete  the  bewilderment  of  her  feel- 
ing, a  certain  additional  reverence  for  the  apparition,  which 
she  must  after  all  regard  as  a  further  development  of  the 
same  person. 

Mrs  Forbes  never  asked  her  to  the  house  now,  and  it  was 
well  for  her  that  her  friendship  with  Tibbie  Dyster  had  be- 
gun. But  as  she  saw  Alec  day  after  day  at  school,  the  old 
colours  began  to  revive  out  of  the  faded  picture — for  to  her 
it  was  a  faded  picture,  although  new  varnished.  And  when 
the  spring  had  advanced  a  little,  the  boat  was  got  out,  and 
then  Alec  could  not  go  rowing  in  the  Bonnie  Annie  without 
thinking  of  its  godmother,  and  inviting  her  to  join  them. 
Indeed  Curly  would  not  have  let  him  forget  her  if  he  had 
been  so  inclined  ;  for  he  felt  that  she  was  a  bond  between  him 
and  Alec,  and  he  loved  Alec  the  more  devotedly  that  the  rift 
between  their  social  positions  had  begun  to  show  itself.  The 
devotion  of  the  schoolboy  to  his  superior  in  schoolboy  arts 
had  begun  to  change  into  something  like  the  devotion  of  the 
clansman  to  his  chief — not  the  worst  folly  the  world  has 
known — in  fact  not  a  folly  at  all,  except  it  stop  there :  many 
enthusiasms  are  follies  only  because  they  are  not  greater  en- 
thusiasms. And  not  unfrequently  would  an  odd  laugh  of 
consciousness  between  Annie  and  Curly,  unexpectedly  meet- 
ing, reveal  the  fact  that  they  were  both  watching  for  a  peep 
or  a  word  of  Alec. 

In  due  time  the  harvest  came;  and  Annie  could  no  more 
keep  from  haunting  the  harvest  than  the  crane  could  keep 
from  flying  south  when  the  summer  is  over.  IShe  watched  all 
the  fields  around  Glamerton ;  she  knew  what  response  each 
made  to  the  sun,  and  which  would  first  be  ripe  for  the  reap- 
ing ;  and  the  very  day  that  the  sickle  was  put  in,  tliere  was 
Annie  to  see  and  share  in  the  joy.  How  mysterious  she 
thought  those  long  colonnades  of  slender  pillars,  each  sup- 
porting its  own  waving  comet-head  of  barley !     Or  when  the 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  177 

sun  was  tigli,  slie  would  lie  down  on  the  ground,  and  look  far 
into  the  little  forest  of  yellow  polished  oat-stems,  stretching 
away  and  away  into  the  unseen — alas,  so  soon  to  fall,  and 
leave  a  naked  commonplace  behind  !  If  she  were  only  small 
enough  to  go  wandering  about  in  it,  what  wonders  might  she 
not  discover ! — But  I  forget  that  I  am  telling  a  story,  and 
not  writing  a  fairy-tale. — Unquestioned  as  uninvited,  she 
was,  as  she  had  often  been  before,  one  of  the  company  of 
reapers,  gatherers,  binders,  and  stookers,  assembled  to  collect 
the  living  gold  of  the  earth  from  the  early  fields  of  the  farm 
of  Howglen.  Sadly  her  thoughts  went  back  to  the  old  days 
when  Dowie  was  master  of  the  field,  and  she  was  Dowie's 
little  mistress.  Not  that  she  met  with  anything  but  kindness 
— only  it  was  not  the  kindness  she  had  had  from  Dowie.  But 
the  pleasure  of  being  once  more  near  Alec  almost  made  up 
for  every  loss.  And  he  was  quite  friendly,  although,  she 
must  confess,  not  quite  so  familiar  as  of  old.  But  that  did 
not  matter,  she  assured  herself. 

The  labourers  all  knew  her,  and  themselves  took  care  that 
she  should  have  the  portion  of  their  food  which  her  assistance 
had  well  earned,  and  which  was  all  her  wages.  She  never 
refused  anything  that  was  ofi'ered  her,  except  money.  That 
she  had  taken  only  once  in  her  life — from  Mr  Cowie,  whom 
she  continued  to  love  the  more  dearly  for  it,  although  she  no 
longer  attended  his  church. 

But  again  the  harvest  was  safely  lodged,  and  the  sad  old 
age  of  the  year  sank  through  rains  and  frosts  to  his  grave. 

The  winter  came  and  Alec  went. 

He  had  not  been  gone  a  week  when  Mrs  Forbes's  invita- 
tions re-commenced ;  and,  as  if  to  make  up  for  the  neglect  of 
the  summer,  they  were  more  frequent  than  before.  No  time 
was  so  happy  for  Annie  as  the  time  she  spent  with  her.  She 
never  dreamed  of  accusing  her  of  fickleness  or  unevenness, 
but  received  whatever  kindness  she  offered  with  gratitude. 
And,  this  winter,  she  began  to  make  some  return  in  the  way 
of  household  assistance. 

One  day,  while  searching  in  the  lumber-room  for  some- 
thing for  Mrs  Forbes,  she  came  upon  a  little  book  lying  be- 
hind a  box.  It  was  damp  and  swollen  and  mouldy,  and  the 
binding  was  decayed  and  broken.  The  inside  was  dingy  and 
spotted  with  brown  spots,  and  had  too  manyjfs  in  it,  as  she 
thought.  Yet  the  first  glance  fascinated  her.  It  had  opened 
in  the  middle  of  HAllerjro.  Mrs  Porbes  found  her  standing 
spell-bound,  reading  the  rhymed  poems  of  the  man  whose 
blank-verse,  two  years  before,  she  had  declined  as  not  what 

12 


178  ALEC    FORiiES   OF    HOWGLEIN. 

poetry  ouglit  to  be.  I  have  often  seen  a  child  refuse  his  food, 
and,  after  being  compelled  to  eat  one  mouthful,  gladly  devour 
the  whole.  In  like  manner  Annie,  having  once  tasted  Mil- 
ton's poetry,  did  not  let  it  go  till  she  had  devoured  even  the 
Paradise  Lost,  of  which  when  she  could  not  make  sense,  she 
at  least  made  music — the  chords  of  old  John  Milton's  organ 
sounding  through  his  sou's  poetry  in  the  brain  of  a  little 
Scotch  lassie  who  never  heard  an  organ  in  her  life. 


CHAPTEE  XLI. 


"  HiLLO,  bantam  !  "  exclaimed  Mr  Cupples,  to  Alec  enter- 
ing his  garret  within  an  hour  of  his  arrival  in  his  old  quarters, 
and  finding  the  soul  of  the  librarian  still  hovering  in  the 
steam  of  his  tumbler,  like  one  of  Swedenborg's  damned  over 
the  odour  of  his  peculiar  hell.  As  he  spoke  he  emptied  the 
glass,  the  custom  of  drinking  from  which,  instead  of  from  the 
tumbler  itself — rendering  it  impossible  to  get  drunk  all  at 
once — is  one  of  the  atonements  offered  by  the  Scotch  to  their 
tiitelar  god — Propriet3^ — "Come  awa'.  What  are  ye  stan'in' 
there  for,  as  gin  ye  warna  at  hame,"  he  added,  seeing  that 
Alec  lingered  on  the  threshold.  "  Sit  doon.  I'm  nae  a'the- 
gither  sorry  to  see  ye." 

"  Have  you  been  to  the  country,  Mr  Cupples  ?  "  asked 
Alec,  as  he  took  a  chair. 

"  The  country  !  Na,  I  haena  been  i'  the  country.  I'm  a 
toon-snail.  The  country's  for  calves  and  geese.  It's  ower 
green  for  me.  I  like  the  gray  stanes — weel  biggit,  to  hand 
oot  the  cauld.  I  jist  reverse  the  opingon  o'  the  auld  duke  in 
Mr  Shackspere ; — for  this  my  life 

'  Find  trees  in  tongues,  its  running  brooks  in  books, 
Stones  in  sermons, ' 

and  I  canna  gang  on  ony  farther  wi'  't.  The  last's  true  ony 
gait.     I  winna  gie  ye  ony  toddy  though." 

"  I  dinna  want  nane." 

"  That's  richt.  Keep  to  that  negation  as  an  anchor  o'  the 
soul,  sure  and  steadfast.  There's  no  boddom  to  the  sea  yo'll 
gang  doon  in  gin  ye  cut  the  cable  that  bauds  ye  to  that 
anchor.     Here's  to  ye  !  " 

And  again  Mr  Cupples  emptied  his  glass. 


ALEC   TORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  179 

"  Hoo  are  ye  prepared  for  yer  mathematics  ?  "  he  resumed. 

"  Middlin'  only,"  answered  Alec. 

"  I  was  doobtin'  that.  Sma'  preparation  does  weel  eneuch 
for  Professor  Fraser's  Greek ;  but  ye'll  fin'  it's  anither  story 
wi'  the  mathematics.  Ye  maun  jist  come  to  me  wi'  them  as 
ye  did  wi'  the  Greek." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr  Cupples,"  said  Alec  heartily.  "  I  don't 
know  how  to  repay  you." 

"  Eepay  me'!  I  want  nae  repayment.  Only  spier  nae 
questons  at  me,  and  gang  awa  whan  I'm  drunk." 

After  all  his  summer  preparation.  Alec  was  still  behind  in 
mathematics ;  for  while,  with  a  distinct  object  in  view,  he  was 
capable  of  much — without  one,  reading  was  a  weariness  to 
him.  His  medical  studies,  combining,  as  they  did,  in  their 
anatomical  branch,  much  to  be  learned  by  the  eye  and  the 
hand  with  what  was  to  be  learned  from  books,  interested  him 
more  and  more. 

One  afternoon,  intent  upon  a  certain  course  of  investiga- 
tion, he  remained  in  the  dissecting  room  after  the  other 
students  had  gone,  and  worked  away  till  it  grew  dai'k.  He 
then  lighted  a  caudle,  and  worked  on.  The  truth  was  un- 
folding itself  gently  and  willingly.  At  last,  feeling  tired,  he 
laid  down  his  scalpel,  droj^ped  upon  a  wooden  chair,  and,  cold 
as  it  was,  fell  fast  asleep.  When  he  awoke,  the  candle  was 
hohling  in  its  socket,  alternately  lighting  and  shadowing  the 
dead  man  on  the  table.  Strange  glooms  were  gathering  about 
the  bottles  on  the  shelves,  and  especially  about  one  corner  of 
the  room,  where — but  I  must  not  particularize  too  much.  It 
must  be  remembered  that  he  had  awaked  suddenly,  in  a 
strange  place,  and  with  a  fitful  light.  He  confessed  to  Mr 
Cupples  that  he  had  felt  a  little  uncomfortable — not  fright- 
ened, but  eerie.  He  was  just  going  to  rise  and  go  home, 
when,  as  he  stretched  out  his  hand  for  his  scalpel,  the  candle 
sunk  in  darkness,  and  he  lost  the  guiding  glitter  of  the  knife. 
At  the  same  moment,  he  caught  a  doubtful  gleam  of  two  eyes 
looking  in  at  him  from  one  of  the  windows.  That  moment 
the  place  became  insupportable  with  horror.  The  vague 
sense  of  an  undefined  presence  turned  the  school  of  science 
into  a  charnel-house.  He  started  up,  hurried  from  the  room, 
feeling  as  if  his  feet  took  no  hold  of  the  floor  and  his  back 
was  fearfully  exposed,  locked  the  door,  threw  the  key  upon 
the  porter's  table,  and  fled.  He  did  not  recover  his  equanimity 
till  he  found  himself  in  the  long  narrow  street  that  led  to  his 
lodgings,  lighted  from  many  little  shop-windows  in  stone 
gable  and  front. 


180  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

By  the  time  lie  Tiad  had  his  tea,  and  learned  a  new  pro- 
position of  Euclid,  the  fright  seemed  to  lie  far  behind  him. 
It  was  not  so  far  as  he  thought,  however,  for  he  started  to 
his  feet  when  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  shook  his  windows.  But 
then  it  was  a  still  frosty  night,  and  such  a  gust  was  not  to  be 
expected.     He  looked  out.     Far  above  shone  the  stars. 

"  How  they  sparkle  in  the  frost !  "  he  said,  as  if  the  frost 
reached  them.  But  they  did  look  like  the  essential  life  that 
makes  snow-flakes  and  icy  spangles  everywhere — they  were  so 
like  them,  only  they  were  of  fire.  Even  snow  itself  must 
have  fire  at  the  heart  of  it. — All  was  still  enough  up  there. 

Then  he  looked  down  into  the  stx'eet,  full  of  the  comings 
and  goings  of  people,  some  sauntering  and  staring,  others 
hastening  along.  Beauchamp  was  looking  in  at  the  window 
of  a  second-hand  book-shop  opposite. 

Not  being  able  to  compose  himself  again  to  his  studies, 
he  resolved,  as  he  had  not  called  on  Mr  Eraser  for  some  time, 
and  the  professor  had  not  been  at  the  class  that  day,  to  go 
and  inquire  after  him  now. 

Mr  Eraser  lived  in  the  quadrangle  of  the  college ;  but  in 
the  mood  Alec  was  in,  nothing  would  do  him  so  much  good 
as  a  walk  in  the  frost.  He  was  sure  of  a  welcome  from  the 
old  man;  for  although  Alec  gave  but  little  attention  to 
Greek  now,  Mr  Eraser  was  not  at  all  dissatisfied  with  him, 
knowing  that  he  was  doing  his  best  to  make  himself  a  good 
doctor.  His  friendliness  towards  him  had  increased ;  for  he 
thought  he  saw  in  him  noble  qualities ;  and  now  that  he  was 
an  old  man,  he  delighted  to  have  a  youth  near  him  with 
whose  youthfulness  he  could  come  into  harmonious  contact. 
It  is  because  the  young  cannot  recognize  the  youth  of  the 
aged,  and  the  old  will  not  acknowledge  the  experience  of  the 
young,  that  they  repel   each  other. 

xllec  was  shown  into  the  professor's  drawing-room.  This 
was  unusual.  The  professor  was  seated  in  an  easy-chair, 
with  one  leg  outstretched  before  him. 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr  Eorbes,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  left 
hand  without  rising.  "  I  am  laid  up  Avith  the  gout — I  don't 
know  why.  The  port  wine  my  grandfather  drunk,  I  suppose, 
/never  drink  it.  I'm  afraid  it's  old  age.  And  yon's  my 
nurse. — Mr  Eorbes,  your  cousin,  Kate,  my  dear." 

Alec  started.  There,  at  the  other  side  of  the  fire,  sat  a 
girl,  half  smiling  and  half  blushing  as  she  looked  up  from  her 
work.  The  candles  between  them  had  hid  her  from  him.  He 
advanced,  and  she  rose  and  held  out  her  hand.  He  was  con- 
fused ;  she  was  perfectly  collected,  although  the  colour  rose 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  181 

a  little  more  in  her  cheek.    She  might  have  been  a  year  older 
than  Alec. 

"  So  you  are  a  cousin  of  mine,  Mr  Porbes !  "  she  said, 
Avhen  they  were  all  seated  by  the  blazing  fire — she  with  a 
piece  of  plain  work  in  her  hands,  he  with  a  very  awkward 
nothing  in  his,  and  the  professor  contemplating  his  swathed 
leg  on  the  chair  before  him. 

"  So  your  uncle  says,"   he  answered,   "  and  I  am  very 
happy  to  believe  him.     I  hope  we  shall  be  good  friends." 
Alec  was  recovering  himself. 

"  I  hope  we  shall,"  she  responded,  with  a  quick,  shy,  asking 
glance  from  her  fine  eyes. 

Those  eyes  were  worth  looking  into,  if  only  as  a  study  of 
colour.  They  were  of  many  hues  marvellously  blended.  I 
think  grey  and  blue  and  brown  and  green  were  all  to  be  found 
in  them.  Their  glance  rather  discomposed  Alec.  He  had  not 
learned  before  that  ladies'  eyes  are  sometimes  very  discompos- 
ing. Tet  he  could  not  keep  his  from  wandering  towards  them  ; 
and  the  consequence  was  that  he  soon  lost  the  greater  part  of 
his  senses.  After  sitting  speechless  for  some  moments,  and 
feeling  as  if  he  had  been  dumb  for  as  many  minutes,  he  was 
seized  by  a  horrible  conviction  that  if  he  remained  silent  an 
instant  longer,  he  would  be  driven  to  do  or  say  something 
absurd.  So  he  did  the  latter  at  once  by  bursting  out  with  the 
stupid  question, 

"  What  are  you  working  at  ?  " 

"  A  duster,"  she  answered  instantly— this  time  without 
looking  up. 

ISTow  the  said  duster  was  of  the  finest  cambric ;  so  that  Alec 
could  not  help  seeing  that  she  was  making  game  of  him.     This 
banished  his  shyness,  and  put  him  on  his  mettle. 
"I  see,"  he  said,  "when  I  ask  questions,  you — " 
"  Tell  lies,"  she  interposed,  without  giving  him  time  even  to 
hesitate ;  adding, 

"Does  your  mother  answer  all  your  questions,  Mr  Eorbes?" 
"  I  believe  she  does — one  way  or  other." 
"  Then  it  is  sometimes  the  other  way  ?     Is  she  nice  ?  " 
"  Who  ?  "  returned  Alec,  surprised  into  doubt. 
"Tour  mother." 

"  She's  the  best  woman  in  the  world,"  he  answered  with 

vehemence,  almost  shocked  at  having  to  answer  such  a  question. 

"  Oh !  I  beg  your  pardon,"  returned  Kate,  laughing ;  and 

the  laugh  curled  her  lip,  revealing  very  pretty  teeth,  with  a 

semi-transparent  pearly-blue  shadow  in  them. 

"  I  am  glad  she  is  nice,"  she  went  on,     "  I  should  like  to 


182  ALEC    FORBES   OF    H0WGLE:N. 

know  her.     Mothers  are  not  always  nice.     I  knew  a  girl  at 
school  whose  mother  wasn't  nice  at  all." 

She  did  not  laugh  after  this  childish  sjDcech,  but  let  her  face 
settle  into  perfect  stillness — sadness  indeed,  for  a  shadow  came 
over  the  stillness.  Mr  Praser  sat  watching  the  two  with  his 
amused  old  face,  one  side  of  it  twitching  in  the  effort  to  sup- 
press the  smile  which  sought  to  break  from  the  useful  half  of 
his  mouth.  His  gout  could  not  have  been  very  bad  just  then. 
"  I  see,  Katie,  what  that  long  chin  of  yours  is  thinking,"  he 
said. 

"  What  is  my  chin  thinking,  uncle  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  That  uncles  are  not  always  nice  either.     They  snub  little 
girls,  sometimes,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  I  know  one  who  is  nice,  all  except  one  naughty  leg." 
She  rose,  as  she  said  this,  and  going  round  to  the  back  of 
his  chair,  leaned  over  it,  and  kissed  his  forehead.     The  old  man 
looked  up  to  her  gratefully. 

"  Ah,  Katie  !  "  he  said,  "  you  may  make  game  of  an  old  man 
like  me.  But  don't  try  your  tricks  on  Mr  Forbes  there.  He 
won't  stand  them." 

Alec  blushed.  Kate  went  back  to  her  seat,  and  took  up 
her  duster  again. 

Alec  was  a  little  short-sighted,  though  he  had  never  dis- 
covered it  till  now.  When  Kate  leaned  over  her  uncle's  chair, 
near  which  he  was  sitting,  he  saw  that  she  was  still  prettier 
than  he  had  thought  her  before. — There  are  few  girls  who  to  a 
short-sighted  person  look  prettier  when  they  come  closer  ;  the 
fact  being  that  the  general  intent  of  the  face,  which  the  general- 
izing effect  of  the  shortness  of  the  sight  reveals,  has  ordinarily 
more  of  beauty  in  it  than  has  yet  been  carried  out  in  detail ;  so 
that,  as  the  girl  approaches,  one  face  seems  to  melt  away,  and 
another,  less  beautiful,  to  dawn  up  through  it. 

But,  as  I  have  said,  this  was  not  Alec's  experience  with 
Kate  ;  for,  whatever  it  might  indicate,  she  looked  prettier  when 
she  came  nearer.  He  found  too  that  her  great  mass  of  hair, 
instead  of  being,  as  he  had  thought,  dull,  was  in  reality  full  of 
glints  and  golden  hints,  as  if  she  had  twisted  up  a  handful  of 
sunbeams  with  it  in  the  morning,  which,  before  night,  had 
faded  a  little,  catching  something  of  the  duskiness  and  shadowi- 
ness  of  their  prison.  One  thing  more  he  saw — that  her  hand 
— she  rested  it  on  the  back  of  the  dark  chair,  and  so  it  had 
caught  his  eye — was  small  and  white  ;  and  those  were  all  the 
qualities  Alec  was  as  yet  capable  of  appreciating  in  a  hand. 
Before  she  got  back  to  her  seat,  he  was  very  nearly  in  love  with 
her.     I  suspect  that  those  generally  who  fall  iu  love  at  first 


ALEC  FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  183 

sight  have  been  in  love  before.  At  least  such  was  Eomeo's 
case.  And  certainly  it  was  not  Alec's.  Yet  I  must  confess,  if 
he  had  talked  stupidly  before,  he  talked  worse  now ;  and  at 
length  went  home  with  the  conviction  that  he  had  made  a  great 
donkey  of  himself. 

As  he  walked  the  lonely  road,  and  the  street  now  fast  clos- 
ing its  windows  and  going  to  sleep,  he  was  haunted  by  a  very 
different  vision  from  that  which  had  accompanied  him  a  few 
hours  ago.  Then  it  was  the  dead  face  of  a  man,  into  which  his 
busy  fancy  had  reset  the  living  eyes  that  he  had  seen  looking 
in  at  the  window  of  the  dissecting  room  ;  now  it  was  the  lovely 
face  of  his  new-found  cousin,  possessing  him  so  that  he  could 
fear  nothing.  Life  had  cast  out  death.  Love  had  cast  out 
fear. 

But  love  had  cast  out  more.  For  he  found,  when  he 
got  home,  that  he  could  neither  read  nor  think.  If  Kate  could 
have  been  conscious  of  its  persistent  intrusion  upon  Alec's 
thoughts,  and  its  constant  interruption  of  his  attempts  at  study, 
she  would  have  been  ashamed  of  that  pretty  face  of  hers,  and 
ready  to  disown  it  for  its  forwardness.  At  last,  he  threw  his 
book  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  went  to  bed,  where  he 
found  it  not  half  so  difficult  to  go  to  sleep  as  it  had  been  to 
study. 

The  next  day  things  went  better ;  for  he  was  not  yet  so  lost 
that  a  night's  rest  could  do  him  no  good.  But  it  was  fortunate 
that  there  was  no  Greek  class,  and  that  he  was  not  called  up  to 
read  Latin  that  day.  For  the  anatomy,  he  was  in  earnest 
about  that ;  and  love  itself,  so  long  as  its  current  is  not  troubled 
by  opposing  rocks,  will  not  disturb  the  studies  of  a  real  student 
— much. 

As  he  left  the  dissecting-room,  he  said  to  himself  that  he 
would  just  look  in  and  see  how  Mr  Eraser  was.  He  was  shown 
into  the  professor's  study. 

Mr  Fraser  smiled  as  he  entered  with  a  certain  grim  comic- 
ality which  Alec's  conscience  interpreted  into :  "  This  won't 
do,  my  young  man." 

"  I  hope  your  gout  is  better  to-day,  sir,"  he  said,  sending 
his  glance  wide  astray  of  his  words. 

"  Yes,  I  thank  you,  Mr  Forbes,"  answered  Mr  Fraser,  "  it 
is  better.     Won't  you  sit  down  ?  " 

Warned  by  that  smile,  Alec  was  astute  enough  to  decline, 
and  presently  took  his  leave.  As  he  shut  the  study  door,  how- 
ever, he  thought  he  would  just  peep  into  the  dining-room,  the 
door  of  which  stood  open  opposite.  There  she  was,  sitting  at 
the  table,  writing. 


184  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

"  "Who  can  that  letter  be  to  ?  "  thought  Alec.  But  it  was 
early  days  to  be  jealous. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr  Forbes  ?"  said  Kate,  holding  out  her 
hand. 

Could  it  be  that  he  had  seen  her  only  yesterday  ?  Or  was 
his  visual  memory  so  fickle  that  he  had  forgotten  what  she  was 
like  ?     She  was  so  difiereut  from  what  he  had  been  fancying  her  ! 

The  fact  was  merely  this — that  she  had  been  writing  to  an 
old  friend,  and  her  manner  for  the  time,  as  well  as  her  expres- 
sion, was  affected  by  her  mental  proximity  to  that  friend  ; — so 
plastic — so  fluent  even — was  her  whole  nature.  Indeed  Alec 
was  not  long  in  finding  out  that  one  of  her  witcheries  was,  that 
she  was  never  the  same.  But  on  this  the  first  occasion,  the 
alteration  in  her  bewildered  him. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  your  uncle  better,"  he  said. 

"  Yes. — You  have  seen  him,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  was  very  busy  in  the  dissecting-room,  till — " 

He  stopped  ;  for  he  saw  her  shudder. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  hastened  to  substitute. — "  We  are 
so  used  to  those  things,  that — " 

"  Don't  say  a  word  more  about  it,  please,"  she  said  hastily. 
Then,  in  a  vague  kind  of  way — "  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.  I  must  go  home,"  answered  Alec,  feeling 
that  she  did  not  want  him.  "  Good  night,"  he  added,  ad- 
vancing a  step. 

"  Good  night,  Mr  Eorbes,"  she  returned  in  the  same  vague 
manner,  and  without  extending  her  hand. 

Alec  checked  himself,  bowed,  and  went  with  a  feeling  of 
mortification,  and  the  resolution  not  to  repeat  his  visit  too  soon. 

She  interfered  with  his  studies  notwithstanding,  and  sent 
him  wandering  in  the  streets,  when  he  ought  to  have  been 
reading  at  home.  One  bright  moonlight  night  he  found  him- 
self on  the  quay,  and  spying  a  boat  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the 
stairs,  asked  the  man  in  it  if  he  was  ready  for  a  row.  The  man 
agreed.  Alec  got  in,  and  they  rowed  out  of  the  river,  and 
along  the  coast  to  a  fishing  village  where  the  man  lived,  and 
whence  Alec  walked  home.  This  was  the  beginning  of  many 
such  boating  excursions  made  by  Alec  in  tlie  close  of  this 
session.  They  greatly  improved  his  boatmanship,  and  streugtli- 
ened  his  growing  muscles.  The  end  of  the  winter  was  mild, 
and  there  were  not  many  days  unfit  for  the  exercise. 


185 


CHAPTEE    XLII. 

The  next  Saturday  but  one  Alec  received  a  note  from  Mr 
Praser,  hoping  that  his  new  cousin  had  not  driven  him  avray, 
and  inviting  him  to  dine  that  same  afternoon. 

He  went.    After  dinner  the  old  man  fell  asleep  in  his  chair. 

"  "Where  were  you  born  ?  "  Alec  asked  Kate. 

She  was  more  like  his  first  impression  of  her. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  "  she  replied.  "  In  the  north  of  Suth- 
erlandshire — near  the  foot  of  a  great  mountain,  from  the  top  of 
which,  on  the  longest  day,  you  can  see  the  sun,  or  a  bit  of  him 
at  least,  all  night  long." 

"  How  glorious !  "  said  Alec. 

"  I  don't  kDow.  J  never  saw  him.  And  the  winters  are  so 
long  and  terrible !  Nothing  but  snowy  hills  abou.t  you,  and 
great  clouds  always  coming  down  with  fresh  loads  of  snow  to 
scatter  over  them." 

"  Then  you  don't  want  to  go  back  ?  " 

"  No.  There  is  nothing  to  make  me  wish  to  go  back. 
There  is  no  one  there  to  love  me  now." 

She  looked  very  sad  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Tes,"  said  Alec,  tlioughtfully ;  "  a  winter  without  love 
must  be  dreadful.  But  I  like  the  winter ;  and  we  have  plenty 
of  it  in  our  quarter  too." 

"  Where  is  your  home  ?  " 

"  Not  many  miles  north  of  this." 

"  Is  it  a  nice  place  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  think  so." 

"  Ah  !  you  have  a  mother.     I  wish  I  knew  her." 

"  I  wish  you  did. — True :  the  whole  place  is  like  her  to  me. 
But  I  don't  think  everybody  would  admire  it.  There  are 
plenty  of  bare  snowy  hills  there  too  in  winter.  But  I  think 
the  summers  and  the  harvests  are  as  delightful  as  anything 
can  be,  except — " 

"  Except  what  ?  " 

"  Don't  make  me  say  what  will  make  you  angry  with  me." 

"  Now  you  must,  else  I  shall  fancy  something  that  will 
make  me  more  angry." 

"  Except  your  face,  then,"  said  Alec,  frightened  at  his  own 
boldness,  but  glancing  at  her  shyly. 

She  flushed  a  little,  but  did  not  look  angry, 

"  I  don't  like  that,"  she  said.  "  It  makes  one  feel  awk- 
ward." 


186  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

"  At  least,"  rejoined  Alec,  emboldened,  "  you  must  allow  it 
is  your  own  fault." 

"  I  can't  help  my  face,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"  Oh  !  you  know  what  I  mean.     You  made  me  say  it." 

"Tes,  after  you  had  half-said  it  already.  Don't  do  it 
again." 

And  there  followed  more  of  such  foolish  talk,  uninteresting 
to  my  readers. 

"  Where  were  you  at  school  ?  "  asked  Alec,  after  a  pause. 
"  Your  uncle  told  me  you  were  at  school." 

"  Near  London,"  she  answered. 

"  Ah  !  that  accounts  for  your  beautiful  speech." 

"  There  again.  I  declare  I  will  wake  my  uncle  if  you  go  on 
in  that  way." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  protested  Alec  ;  "  I  forgot." 

"But,"  she  went  on,  "in  Sutherlandshire  we  don't  talk  so 
horribly  as  they  do  here." 

"  I  daresay  not,"  returned  Alec,  humbly. 

"  I  don't  mean  you.  I  wonder  how  it  is  that  you  speak  so 
much  better  than  all  the  people  here." 

"  I  suppose  because  my  mother  speaks  well.  She  never  lets 
me  speak  broad  Scotch  to  her." 

"  Your  mother  again !     She's  everything  to  you." 

Alec  did  not  reply. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  her,"  pursued  Kate. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  her,  then." 

"  See  whom  ?  "  asked  Mr  Fraser,  rousing  himself  from 
his  nap. 

"  My  mother,  sir,"  answered  Alec. 

"  Oh !  I  thought  you  had  been  speaking  of  Katie's  friend," 
said  the  professor,  and  fell  asleep  again. 

"  Uncle  means  Bessie  Warner,  who  is  coming  by  the  steamer 
from  London  on  Monday.  Isn't  it  kind  of  uncle  to  ask  her  to 
come  and  see  me  here  ?  " 

"  He  is  kind  always.  Was  Miss  Warner  a  schoolfellow  of 
yours  ?  " 

"  Yes — no — not  exactly.  She  was  one  of  the  governesses. 
I  onust  go  and  meet  her  at  the  steamer.  Will  you  go  with 
me  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  delighted.  Do  you  know  when  she  ar- 
rives F  " 

"  They  say  about  six.     I  daresay  it  is  not  very  punctual." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  she  is — when  the  weather  is  decent.  I  will  make 
inquiries,  and  come  and  fetch  you." 

"  Thank  you. — 1  suppose  1  may,  uncle  ?  " 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  187 

"  "What,  my  dear  ? "  said  the  professor,  rousing  himself 
again. 

"  Have  my  cousin  to  take  care  of  me  when  I  go  to  meet 
Bessie  ?  " 

"  Tes,  certainly.  I  shall  be  much  ohliged  to  you,  Mr  Porbes. 
I  am  not  quite  so  agile  as  I  was  at  your  age,  though  my  gouty 
leg  is  better." 

This  conversation  would  not  have  been  worth  recording  were 
it  not  that  it  led  to  the  walk  and  the  waiting  on  Monday. — They 
found,  when  they  reached  the  region  of  steamers,  that  she  had 
not  yet  been  signalled,  but  her  people  were  expecting  the  signal 
every  minute.  So  Alec  and  Kate  walked  out  along  the  pier,  to 
pass  the  time.  This  pier  runs  down  the  side  of  the  river,  and  a 
long  way  into  the  sea.  It  had  begun  to  grow  dark,  and  Alec 
had  to  take  great  care  of  Kate  amongst  the  tramways,  coils  of 
rope,  and  cables  that  crossed  their  way.  At  length  they  got 
clear  of  these,  and  found  themselves  upon  the  pier,  built  of 
great  rough  stones — lonely  and  desert,  tapering  away  into  the 
dark,  its  end  invisible,  but  indicated  by  the  red  light  far  in 
front. 

"  It  is  a  rough  season  of  the  year  for  a  lady  to  come  by  sea," 
said  Alee. 

"  Bessie  is  very  fond  of  the  sea,"  answered  Kate.  "  I  hope 
you  will  like  her,  Mr  Forbes." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  like  her  better  than  you  ?  "  rejoined 
Alec.     "  Because  if  you  do " 

"  Look  how  beautiful  that  red  light  is  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river,"  interrupted  Kate.  "  And  there  is  another  further 
out." 

"  When  the  man  at  the  helm  gets  those  two  lights  in  a  line," 
said  Alec,  "  he  may  steer  straight  in,  in  the  darkest  night — that 
is,  if  the  tide  serves  for  the  bar." 

"  Look  how  much  more  glorious  the  red  shine  is  on  the  water 
below  !  "  said  Kate. 

"  It  looks  so  wet !  "  returned  Alec, — "just  like  blood." 

He  almost  cursed  himself  as  he  said  so,  for  he  felt  Kate's 
hand  stir  as  if  she  would  withdraw  it  from  his  arm.  But  after 
fluttering  like  a  bird  for  a  moment,  it  settled  again  upon  its 
perch,  and  there  rested. 

The  day  had  been  quite  calm,  but  now  a  sudden  gust  of  wmd 
from  the  north-east  swept  across  the  pier  and  made  Kate  shiver. 
Alec  drew  her  shawl  closer  about  her,  and  her  arm  further 
within  his.  They  were  now  close  to  the  sea.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  wall  which  rose  on  their  left,  they  could  hear  the 
first  of  the  sea- waves.     It  was  a  dreary  place — no  sound  even 


188  ALEC    FOKBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

indicating  the  neiglibourhood  of  life.  On  one  side,  the  river 
below  them  went  flowing  out  to  the  sea  in  the  dark,  giving  a 
cold  sluggish  gleam  now  and  then,  as  if  it  were  a  huge  snake 
heaving  up  a  bend  of  its  wet  back,  as  it  hurried  away  to  join  its 
fellows ;  on  the  other  side  rose  a  great  wall  of  stone,  beyond 
which  was  the  sound  of  long  Avaves  following  in  troops  out  of 
the  dark,  and  falling  upon  a  low  moaning  coast.  Clouds  hung 
above  the  sea  ;  and  above  the  clouds  two  or  three  disconsolate 
stars. 

"  Here  is  a  stair,"  said  Alec.  "  Let  us  go  up  on  the  top  of 
the  sea-wall,  and  then  we  shall  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
light  at  her  funnel." 

They  climbed  the  steep  rugged  steps,  and  stood  on  the  broad 
wall,  hearing  the  sea-pulses  lazily  fall  at  its  foot.  The  wave 
crept  away  after  it  fell,  and  returned  to  fall  again  like  a  weary 
hound.  There  was  hardly  any  life  in  the  sea.  How  mournful 
it  was  to  lie  out  there,  the  wintry  night,  beneath  an  all  but 
starless  heaven,  with  the  wind  vexing  it  when  it  wanted  to 
sleep ! 

Alec  feeling  Kate  draw  a  deep  breath  like  the  sigh  of  the 
sea,  looked  round  in  her  face.  Thei'e  was  still  light  enough  to 
show  it  fx'owning  and  dark  and  sorrowful  and  hopeless.  It  was 
in  fact  a  spiritual  mirror,  which  reflected  in  human  forms  the 
look  of  that  weary  waste  of  waters.  She  gave  a  little  start, 
gathered  herself  together,  and  murmured  something  about  the 
cold. 

"  Let  us  go  down  again,"  said  Alec. — "  The  wind  has  risen 
considerably,  and  the  wall  will  shelter  us  down  below." 

"No,  no,"  she  answered;  "I  like  it.  We  can  walk  here 
just  as  well.     I  don't  mind  the  wind." 

"  I  thought  you  were  afraid  of  falling  off"." 

"  No,  not  in  the  dark.  I  should  be,  I  daresay,  if  I  could 
see  how  far  we  are  from  the  bottom." 

So  they  walked  on.  The  waves  no  longer  fell  at  the  foot  of 
the  wall,  but  leaned  tlieir  breasts  against  it,  gleaming  as  they 
rose  on  its  front,  and  darkening  as  they  sank  low  towards  its 
deep  base. 

The  wind  kept  coming  in  gusts,  tearing  a  white  gleam  now 
and  then  on  the  dark  surface  of  the  sea.  Behind  them  shone 
the  dim  lights  of  the  city  ;  before  them  all  was  dark  as  eternity, 
except  for  the  one  light  at  the  end  of  the  pier.  At  length  Alec 
spied  another  out  at  sea. 

"  I  believe  that  is  the  steamer,"  he  said.  "  But  she  is  a  good 
way  off".  We  shall  liave  plenty  of  time  to  walk  to  the  end — 
that  is,  if  you  would  like  to  go." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  189 

"Certainly;  let  us  go  on.  I  want  to  stand  on  tlie  very 
point,"  answered  Kate. 

They  soon  came  to  tlie  lighthouse  on  the  wall,  and  there  de- 
scended to  the  lower  part  of  the  pier,  the  end  of  which  now 
plunged  with  a  steep  descent  into  the  sea.  It  w^as  constructed 
of  great  stones  clamped  with  iron,  and  built  into  a  natural 
foundation  of  rock,  tip  the  slope  the  waves  rushed,  and  down 
the  slope  they  sank  again,  w'ith  that  seemingly  aimless  and  re- 
sultless  rise  and  fall,  which  makes  the  sea  so  dreary  and  sad  to 
those  men  and  women  who  are  not  satisfied  without  some  goal 
in  view,  some  outcome  of  their  labours  ;  for  it  goes  on  and  on, 
answering  ever  to  the  call  of  sun  and  moon,  and  the  fierce 
trumpet  of  the  winds,  yet  working  nothing  but  the  hopeless 
wear  of  the  bosom  in  which  it  lies  bound  for  ever. 

They  stood  looking  out  into  the  great  dark  before  them, 
dark  air,  dark  sea,  dark  sky,  watching  the  one  light  which  grew 
brighter  as  they  gazed.  Neither  of  them  saw  that  a  dusky 
figure  was  watching  them  from  behind  a  great  cylindrical  stone 
that  stood  on  the  end  of  the  pier,  close  to  the  wall. 

A  wave  rushed  up  almost  to  their  feet. 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  Kate,  with  a  shiver.  "  I  can't  bear  it 
longer.  The  water  is  calling  me  and  threatening  me.  There  ! 
How  that  wave  rushed  up  as  if  it  wanted  me  at  once  !  " 

Alec  again  drew  her  closer  to  him,  and  turning,  they  walked 
slowly  back.  He  was  silent  with  the  delight  of  having  that 
lovely  creature  all  to  himself,  leaning  on  his  arm,  in  the  infold- 
ing and  protecting  darkness,  and  Kate  was  likewise  silent. 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  quay  at  the  other  end  of  the 
pier,  the  steamer  had  crossed  the  bar,  and  they  could  hear  the 
thud  of  her  paddles  treading  the  water  beneath  them,  as  if 
eagerly  because  she  was  near  her  rest.  After  a  few  struggles, 
she  lay  quiet  in  her  place,  and  they  went  on  board. 

Alec  saw  Kate  embrace  a  girl  perhaps  a  little  older  than 
herself,  helped  her  to  find  her  luggage,  put  them  into  a  chaise, 
took  his  leave,  and  went  home. 

He  did  not  know  that  all  the  way  back  along  the  pier  they 
had  been  followed  by  Patrick  Beauchamp. 


190 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Excited,  and  unable  to  settle  to  bis  work,  Alec  ran  up- 
stairs to  Mr  Cupples,  wbom  be  bad  not  seen  for  some  days. 
He  found  bim  not  more  tban  balf-way  towards  bis  diurnal 
goal. 

"  Wbat's  come  o'  you,  bantam,  tbis  mony  a  day  ?  "  said  Mr 
Cupples. 

■"  1  saw  ye  last  Saturday,"  said  Alec. 

"Last  Setterday  week,  ye  mean,"  rejoined  tbe  librarian. 
"  Hoo's  tbe  matbematics  comin'  on  ?  " 

"  To  tell  tbe  trutb,  I'm  raitber  abin'  wi'  tbem,"  answered 
Alec. 

"  I  was  tbinkin'  as  muckle.  Rainbows  !  Tbae  rainbows  ! 
And  tbe  anawtomy  ?  " 

"  Nae  jist  stan'in'  still  a'tbegitber." 

"  Tbat's  weel.  Te  baena  been  fa'in'  asleep  again  ower  tbe 
guddlet  carcass  o'  an  auld  pauper — bae  ye  ?  " 

Alec  stared.  He  bad  never  told  any  one  of  bis  adventure 
in  tbe  dissecting-room. 

"  I  saw  ye,  my  man.  But  I  wasna  tbe  only  ane  tbat  saw 
ye.  Te  micbt  bae  gotten  a  waur  fleg  gin  I  badna  come  up,  for 
Mr  Beaucbamp  was  takin'  tbe  bearin's  o'  ye  tbrou  tbe  window, 
and  wban  I  gaed  up,  be  slippit  awa'  like  a  wraitb.  Tbere  ye 
lay,  wi'  yer  beid  back,  and  yer  mou'  open,  as  gin  you  and  the 
deid  man  bad  been  tryin'  wbilk  wad  sleep  tbe  soun'est.  But 
ye  bae  ta'en  to  itber  studies  sin'  syne.  Te  bae  a  fresb  subjec 
— a  bonnie  young  ane.  Tbe  Lord  bae  mercy  upo'  ye  !  Tbe 
goddess  o'  tbe  rainbow  bersel's  gotten  a  baud  o'  ye,  and  ye'll 
be  seein'  naetbing  but  rainbows  for  years  to  come. — Iris  bigs 
bonnie  brigs,  but  tbey  bae  nowtber  pier,  nor  buttress,  nor  key- 
stane,  nor  parapet.  And  no  fit  can  gang  ower  tbem  but  ber 
ain,  and  wban  she  steps  aff,  it's  upo'  men's  bei'ts,  and  yours  can 
ill  bide  ber  fit,  licbt  as  it  may  be." 

"  What  are  ye  propbeseein' at,  Mr  Cupples?"  said  Alec, 
who  did  not  more  tban  balf  understand  bim. 

"Verraweel.  I'm  no  drunk  yet,"  rejoined  Mr  Cupples, 
oracularly.  "  But  tbat  chield  Beaucbamp's  no  rainbow — tbat 
lat  me  tell  ye.  He'll  do  you  a  miscbcef  yet,  gin  ye  dinna  luik 
a'  tbe  sbairper.  I  ken  tbe  breed  o'  bim.  He  was  iuikiu'atye 
tbrou  tbe  window  like  a  luingry  deevil.  And  jist  min'  wbat 
ye're  aboot  wi'  tbe  lassie — she's  rael  bonnie — or  ye  may  chance 
to  get  ber  into  trouble,  witboot  ouy  wyte  {fault)  o'  yer  ain. 


ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN.  191 

Min'  I'm  tellin'  ye.  Gin  ye'll  tak  my  advice,  ye'll  tak  a  dose 
o'  mathematics  direckly.  It's  a  fine  alterative  as  weel  as  anti- 
dote, though  maybe  whusky's the  verra  broo  o'  the 

deevil's  ain  pot,"  he  concluded,  altering  his  tone  entirely,  and 
swallowing  the  rest  of  his  glass  at  a  gulp. 

"  What  do  ye  want  me  to  do  ?  "  asked  Alec. 

"To  tak  tent  (care)  o'  Beauchamp.  And  meantime  to 
rin  doon  for  yer  Euclid  and  yer  Hutton,  and  lat's  see  whaur 
ye  are." 

There  was  more  ground  for  Mr  Cupples's  warning  than  Alec 
had  the  smallest  idea  of.  He  had  concluded  long  ago  that  all 
,  possible  relations,  even  those  of  enmity — practical  enmity  at 
least — were  over  between  them,  and  that  Mr  Beauchamp  con- 
sidered the  bejan  sufficiently  punished  for  thrashing  him,  by 
being  deprived  of  his  condescending  notice  for  the  rest  of  the 
ages.  But  so  far  was  this  from  being  the  true  state  of  the  case, 
that,  although  Alec  never  suspected  it,  Beauchamp  had  in  fact 
been  dogging  and  haunting  him  from  the  very  commencement 
of  the  session,  and  Mr  Cupples  had  caught  him  in  only  one  of 
many  acts  of  the  kind.  In  the  anatomical  class,  where  they 
continued  to  meet,  he  still  attempted  to  keep  up  the  old  look 
of  disdain,  as  if  the  lesson  he  had  received  had  in  no  way  altered 
their  relative  position.  Had  Alec  known  with  what  difficulty, 
and  under  what  a  load  of  galling  recollection,  he  kept  it  up,  he 
would  have  been  heartily  sorry  for  him.  Beauchamp's  whole 
consciousness  was  poisoned  by  the  memory  of  that  day.  In- 
capable of  regarding  any  one  except  in  comparative  relation  to 
himself,  the  eftbrt  of  his  life  had  been  to  maintain  that  feeling 
of  superiority  with  which  he  started  every  new  acquaintance  ; 
for  occasionally  a  flash  of  foreign  individuality  would  break 
through  the  husk  of  satisfaction  in  which  he  had  inclosed  him- 
self, compelling  him  to  feel  that  another  man  might  have  claims. 
And  hitherto  he  had  been  very  successful  in  patching  up  and 
keeping  entire  his  eggshell  of  conceit.  But  that  alfair  with 
Alec  was  a  very  bad  business.  Had  Beauchamp  been  a  coward, 
he  would  have  sulTered  less  from  it.  But  he  was  no  coward, 
though  not  quite  so  courageous  as  Hector,  who  yet  turned  and 
fled  before  Achilles.  Without  the  upholding  sense  of  duty,  no 
man  can  be  sure  of  his  own  behaviour,  simply  because  he  can- 
not be  sure  of  his  owti  nerves.  Duty  kept  the  red-cross  knight 
"  forlorne  and  left  to  losse,"  "  haplesse  and  eke  hopelesse," 

"  Disarmd,  disgraste,  and  inwardly  dismayde, 
And  eke  so  faint  in  every  joynt  and  vayne," 

from  turning  his  back  on  the  giant  Orgoglio,  and  sent  him 


192  ALEC   FOKBES    OF    HOWGLEJI. 

pacing  towards  him  with  feeble  steps  instead.  But  although  he 
was  not  wanting  in  mere  animal  courage,  Beauchamp's  pride 
always  prevented  him  from  engaging  in  any  contest  in  which  he 
was  not  sure  of  success,  the  thought  of  failure  being  to  him  un- 
endurable. When  he  found  that  he  had  miscalculated  the  pro- 
babilities, he  was  instantly  dismayed  ;  and  the  blow  he  received 
on  his  mouth  reminding  his  vanity  of  the  danger  his  handsome 
face  was  in,  he  dropped  his  arms  and  declined  further  contest, 
comforting  himself  with  the  fancy  of  postponing  his  vengeance 
to  a  better  opportunity. 

But  within  an  hour  he  knew  that  he  had  lost  his  chance,  as 
certainly  as  he  who  omits  the  flood-tide  of  his  fortune.  He  not 
only  saw  that  he  was  disgraced,  but  felt  in  himself  that  he  had 
been  cowardly ;  and,  more  mortifying  still,  felt  that,  with  re- 
spect to  the  clodhopper,  he  was  cowardly  now.  He  was  afraid 
of  him.  Nor  could  he  take  refuge  in  the  old  satisfaction  of 
despising  him  ;  for  that  he  found  no  longer  possible.  He  was 
on  the  contrary  compelled  to  despise  himself,  an  experience 
altogether  new  ;  so  that  his  contempt  for  Alec  changed  into  a 
fierce,  slow-burning  hate. 

Now  hate  keeps  its  object  present  even  more  than  the  oppo- 
site passion.  Love  makes  everything  lovely ;  hate  concentrates 
itself  on  the  one  thing  hated.  The  very  sound  of  Alec's  voice 
became  to  the  ears  of  Beauchamp  what  a  filthy  potion  would 
have  been  to  his  palate.  Every  line  of  his  countenance  became 
to  his  eyes  what  a  disgusting  odour  would  have  been  to  his 
nostrils.  And  yet  the  fascination  of  his  hate,  and  his  desire  of 
revenge,  kept  Beauchamp's  ears,  eyes,  and  thoughts  hovering 
about  Forbes. 

No  way  of  gratifying  his  hatred,  however,  although  he  had 
been  brooding  over  it  all  the  previous  summer,  had  presented 
itself  till  now.  Now  he  saw  the  possibility  of  working  a  dear 
revenge.  But  even  now,  to  work  surely,  he  must  delay  long. 
Still  the  present  consolation  was  great. 

Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  his  pride  should  not  protect  him 
from  the  deeper  disgrace  of  walking  in  underground  ways.  For 
there  is  nothing  in  the  worship  of  self  to  teach  a  man  to  be 
noble.  Honour  even  will  one  day  fail  him  who  has  learned  no 
higher  principle.  And  although  revenge  be  "  a  kind  of  wild 
justice,"  it  loses  the  justice,  and  retains  only  the  wildness,  when 
it  corrupts  into  hatred.  Every  feeling  that  Beauchamp  had  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  gulf  eaten  away  by  that  worst  of  all  canker- 
worms. 

Notwithstanding  the  humiliation  he  had  experienced,  he  re- 
tained as  yet  an  unlimited  confidence  in  some  gifts  which  he 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  193 

supposed  himself  to  possess  by  nature,  and  to  be  capable  of  u'ing 
with  unequalled  art.  And  true  hate,  as  well  as  true  love,  knows 
how  to  wait. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


In  the  course  of  her  study  of  Milton,  Annie  had  come  upon 
Samson's  lamentation  over  his  blindness  ;  and  had  found,  soon 
after,  the  passage  in  which  Milton,  in  his  own  person,  bewails 
the  loss  of  light.  The  thought  that  she  would  read  them  to 
Tibbie  Dyster  was  a  natural  one.  She  borrowed  the  volumes 
from  Mrs  Forbes  ;  and,  the  next  evening,  made  her  way  to 
Tibbie's  cottage,  where  she  was  welcomed  as  usual  by  her  gruif 
voice  of  gratefulness. 

"  Ye're  a  gude  bairn  to  come  a'  this  gait  through  the  snaw  to 
see  an  auld  blin'  body  like  me.  It's  dingin'  on  {snowing  or  rain- 
ing)— is  na  't,  bairn  ?  " 

"  Ay  is't.     Hoo  do  ye  ken,  Tibbie  ?  " 

"  I  diuna  ken  hoo  I  ken.  I  was  na  sure.  The  snaw  maks 
unco  little  din,  ye  see.  It  comes  doon  like  the  speerit  himsel' 
upo'  quaiet  herts." 

"  Did  ye  ever  see,  Tibbie  ?  "  asked  Annie,  after  a  pause. 

"  Xa  ;  nae  that  I  min'  upo'.  I  was  but  twa  year  auld,  my 
mither  used  to  tell  fowk,  whan  I  had  the  pock,  an'  it  jist 
closed  up  my  een  for  ever — i'  this  warl,  ye  ken.  I  s'  see 
some  day  as  weel's  ony  o'  ye,  lass." 

"  Do  ye  ken  what  licht  is,  Tibbie  ?  "  said  Annie,  whom 
Milton  had  set  meditating  on  Tibbie's  physical  in  relation  to 
her  mental  condition. 

"  Ay,  weel  eneuch,"  answered  Tibbie,  with  a  touch  of  in- 
dignation at  the  imputed  ignorance.  "  What  for  no  ?  What 
gars  ye  spier  ?  " 

"  Ow  !  I  jist  wanted  to  ken." 

"  Hoo  could  I  no  ken  ?  Disna  the  Saviour  say  :  '  I  am 
the  licht  o'  the  warl?  '  —  He  that  walketh  in  Him  maun  ken 
what  licht  is,  lassie.  Syne  ye  hae  the  licht  in  yersel — in  yer 
ain  hert ;  an'  ye  maun  ken  what  it  is.     Ye  canna  mistak'  it." 

Annie  was  neither  able  nor  willing  to  enter  into  an  argu- 
ment on  the  matter,  although  she  was  not  satisfied.  She 
would  rather  think  than  dispute  about  it.  So  she  changed 
the  subject  in  a  measure. 

13 


194  ALEC  rORBES  OF  HOWGEEN. 

"Did  ye  ever  hear  o'  John  Milton,  Tibbie?"  she  asked. 
^  "  Ow  !  ay.     He  was  blin'  like  niysel,'  wasna  he  ?  " 

"  Ay,  was  he.     I  hae  been  readin'  a  heap  o'  his  poetry." 

"  Eh !  I  wad  richt  weel  like  to  hear  a  bittie  o'  't." 

"  Weel,  here's  a  bit  'at  he  made  as  gin  Samson  was  sayin' 
o'  't,  till  himsel'  like,  efter  they  had  pitten  oot's  een — the 
Phillisteens,  ye  ken." 

"  Ay,  I  ken  weel  eneuch.     Head  it." 

Annie  read  the  well-known  passage.  Tibbie  listened  to 
the  end,  without  word  of  remark  or  question,  her  face  turned 
towards  the  reader,  and  her  sightless  balls  rolling  under  their 
closed  lids.  When  Annie's  voice  ceased,  she  said,  after  a  little 
reflection : 

"  Ay  !  ay !  It's  bonnie,  an'  verra  true.  And,  puir  man  ! 
it  was  waur  for  him  nor  for  me  and  Milton ;  for  it  was  a'  his 
ain  wyte ;  and  it  was  no  to  be  expecket  he  cud  be  sae  quaiet 
as  anither.  But  he  had  no  richt  to  queston  the  ways  o'  the 
Maker.     But  it's  bonnie,  rael  bonnie." 

"  Noo,  I'll  jist  I'ead  to  ye  what  Milton  says  aboot  his  ain 
blin'ness.     But  it's  some  ill  to  unnerstan'." 

"  Maybe  I'll  unnerstan'  't  better  nor  you,  bairn.  Eead 
awa'." 

So  admonished,  Annie  read.  Tibbie  fidgeted  about  ou  her 
seat.  It  was  impossible  either  should  understand  it.  And 
the  proper  names  were  a  great  puzzle  to  them. 

"  Tammy  Eiss  !  "  said  Tibbie  ;  "  I  ken  naething  aboot  him." 

"  JS^a,  neither  do  I,"  said  Annie ;  and  beginning  the  line 
again,  she  blundered  over  "Hind  ATaeonides." 

"  Ye're  readin'  't  wrang,  bairn.  It  sud  be  '  nae  ony  diujs^ 
for  there's  nae  days  or  nichts  either  to  the  blin'.  They  dinua 
ken  the  difler,  ye  see." 

"  I'm  readin'  't  as  I  hae't,"  answered  Annie.  "  It's  a 
muckle  M." 

"  I  ken  naething  aboot  yer  muckle  or  yer  little  Ms,"  re- 
torted Tibbie,  with  indignation.  "  Gin  that  binna  what  it 
means,  it's  ayont  me.  Eead  awa'.  Maybe  we'll  come  to 
something  better." 

"  Ay  will  we  ?  "  said  Annie,  and  resumed. 

With  the  words,  "  Thus  with  the  year  seasons  return,''  Tib- 
bie's attention  grew  fixed ;  and  when  the  reader  came  to  the 
passage, 

"  So  much  the  rather  thou,  Celestial  Light, 
Shine  iuvrard," 

her  attention  rose  into  rapture. 

"  Ay,  ay,  lassie !      That  man  keut  a'  aboot  it !      He  wad 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  195 

never  liae  speired  gin  a  blin'  crater  like  me  kent  what  tlie 
licht  was.     He  kent  what  it  was  weel.     Ay  did  he !  " 

"  But,  ye  see,  he  was  a  gey  auld  man  afore  he  tint  his 
eesicht,"  Annie  ventured  to  interpose. 

"  Sae  muckle  the  better !  He  kent  baith  kinds.  And  he 
kent  that  the  sicht  without  the  een  is  better  nor  the  sicht  o' 
the  een.  Fowk  nae  doobt  has  baith ;  but  I  think  whiles  'at 
the  Lord  gies  a  grainy  mair  o'  the  inside  licht  to  mak'  up  for 
the  loss  o'  the  ootside  ;  and  weel  I  wat  it  doesna  want  muckle 
to  do  that." 

"  But  ye  dinna  ken  what  it  is,"  objected  Annie,  with  un- 
necessary persistency  in  the  truth. 

"  Do  ye  tell  me  that  again  ?  "  returned  Tibbie,  harshly. 
"  Ye'll  anger  me,  bairn.  Grin  ye  kent  hoo  I  lie  awauk  at 
nicht,  no  able  to  sleep  for  thinkin'  'at  the  day  will  come 
whan  I'll  see — wi'  my  ain  open  een— the  verra  face  o'  him 
that  bore  oor  griefs  an'  carried  oor  sorrows,  till  I  jist  lie  and 
greit,  for  verra  wissin',  ye  wadna  say  'at  I  dinna  ken  what  the 
sicht  o'  a  body's  een  is.  Sae  nae  mair  o'  that !  I  beg  o'  ye, 
or  I'll  jist  need  to  gang  to  my  prayers  to  haud  me  ohn  been 
angry  wi'  ane  o'  the  Lord's  bairns ;  for  that  ye  are,  I  do  be- 
lieve, Annie  Anderson.  Te  ca-nna  ken  what  blin'ness  is  ;  but 
I  doobt  ye  ken  what  the  licht  is,  lassie  ;  and,  for  the  lave  (j-est), 
jist  ye  lippen  {trust)  to  John  Milton  and  me." 

Annie  dared  not  say  another  word.  She  sat  silent — per- 
haps rebuked.     But  Tibbie  resumed  : 

"  Te  maunna  think,  hooever,  'cause  sic  longin'  thouchts 
come  ower  me,  that  I  gang  aboot  the  hoose  girnin'  and  com- 
pleenin'  that  I  canna  open  the  door  and  win  oot.  Na,  na.  I 
could  jist  despise  the  licht,  whiles,  that  ye  mak'  sic  a  wark 
aboot,  and  sing  and  shcfut,  as  the  Psalmist  says ;  for  I'm  jist 
that  glaid,  that  I  dinna  ken  hoo  to  haud  it  in.  For  the  Lord's 
my  frien'.  I  can  jist  tell  him  a'  that  comes  into  my,  puir  blin' 
held.  Te  see  there's  ither  ways  for  things  to  come  intil  a 
body's  heid.  There's  mair  doors  nor  the  een.  There's  back 
doors,  whiles,  that  lat  ye  oot  to  the  bonnie  gairden,  and  that's 
better  nor  the  road-side.  And  the  smell  o'  the  braw  flooers 
comes  in  at  the  back  winnocks,  ye  ken. — Whilk  o'  the  bonnie 
flooers  do  ye  think  likest  Him,  Annie  Anderson  ?  " 

"  Eh !  I  dinna  ken,  Tibbie.  I'm  thinkin'  they  maun  be  a' 
like  him." 

"  Ay,  ay,  nae  doobt.  But  some  o'  them  may  be  liker  him 
nor  ithers." 

"  Weel,  whilk  do  ye  think  likest  him,  Tibbie  ?  " 


196  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  I  think  it  maun  be  the  minnonette — sae  clean  and  sae 
fine  and  sae  weel  content." 

"  Ay,  ye're  speiken  by  the  smell,  Tibbie.  But  gin  ye  saw 
the  rose — " 

"  Hoots  !  I  hae  seen  the  rose  mony  a  time.  Nae  doobt 
it's  bonnier  to  luik  at — "  and  here  her  fingers  went  moving 
about  as  if  they  were  feeling  the  full-blown  sphere  of  a  rose — 
"  but  I  think,  for  my  pairt,  that  the  minnonette's  likest  Him." 

"  May  be,"  was  all  Annie's  reply,  and  Tibbie  went  on. 

"  There  maun  be  faces  liker  him  nor  ithers.  Come  here, 
Annie,  and  lat  me  fin  {feel)  whether  ye  be  like  him  or  no." 

"  Hoo  can  ye  ken  that  ? — ye  never  saw  him." 

"  Never  saw  him !  I  hae  seen  him  ower  and  ower  again. 
I  see  him  whan  I  like.     Come  here,  I  say." 

Annie  went  and  knelt  down  beside  her,  and  the  blind 
woman  passed  her  questioning  fingers  in  solemn  silence  over 
and  over  the  features  of  the  child.  At  length,  with  her  hands 
still  resting  upon  Annie's  head,  she  uttered  her  judgment. 

"  Ay.  Some  like  him,  nae  doot.  But  she'll  be  a  heap  liker 
him  whan  she  sees  him  as  he  is." 

When  a  Christian  proceeds  to  determine  the  rightness  of 
his  neighbour  by  his  approximation  to  his  fluctuating  ideal, 
it  were  well  if  the  judgment  were  tempered  by  siich  love  as 
guided  the  hands  of  blind  Tibbie  over  the  face  of  Annie  in 
their  attempt  to  discover  whether  or  not  she  was  like  the 
Christ  of  her  visions. 

"  Do  ye  think  ye're  like  him,  Tibbie  ?  "  said  Annie  with  a 
smile,  which  Tibbie  at  once  detected  in  the  tone. 

"  Hoots,  bairn !     I  had  the  pock  dreidfu',  ye  ken." 

"  Weel,  maybe  we  a'  hae  had  something  or  ither  that 
hands  us  ohn  been  sae  bonny  as  we  nficht  hae  been.  Tor  ae 
thing,  there's  the  guilt  o'  Adam's  first  sin,  ye  ken." 

"  Verra  richt,  bairn.  Nae  doot  that's  blaudit  mony  a  face 
— *  the  want  o'  original  richteousness,  and  the  corruption  o' 
our  whole  natur'.'  The  wonner  is  that  we're  like  him  at  a'. 
But  we  maun  be  like  him,  for  he  was  a  man  born  o'  a  wum- 
man.'     Think  o'  that,  lass  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  latch  of  the  door  was  lifted,  and  in 
walked  Robert  Bruce.  He  gave  a  stare  when  he  saw  Annie, 
for  he  had  thought  her  out  of  the  way  at  Howglen,  and  said 
in  a  tone  of  asperity, 

'•  Ye're  a'  gait  at  ance,  Annie  Anderson.  A  doouriclit 
rintheroot ! " 

"  Lat  the  bairn  be,  Maister  Bruce,"  said  Tibbie.     "  She's 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  197 

doin'  the  Lord's  will,  "wliether  ye  may  think  it  or  no.  She's 
visitin'  them  'at's  i'  the  prison-hoose  o'  the  dark.  She's  min- 
isterin'  to  them  'at  hae  mony  preeviledges  nae  doot,  but  hae 
room  for  mair." 

"  I'm  no  saying  naething,"  said  Bruce. 

"  Ye  are  savin'.  Te're  ofFendin'  ane  o'  his  little  anes. 
Tak  ye  tent  o'  the  millstane." 

"  Hoot  toot !  Tibbie.  I  was  only  wissin  'at  she  wad  keep 
a  sma'  part  o'  her  ministrations  for  her  ain  hame  and  her  ain 
fowk  'at  has  the  ministerin'  to  her.  There's  the  mistress  and 
me  jist  mairtyrs  to  that  chop  !  And  there's  the  bit  infant  in 
want  o'  some  ministration  noo  and  than,  gin  that  be  what  ye 
ca'  't." 

A  grim  compression  of  the  mouth  was  all  Tibbie's  reply. 
She  did  not  choose  to  tell  Eobert  Bruce  that  although  she 
was  blind — and  probably  because  she  was  blind — she  heard 
rather  more  gossip  than  anybody  else  in  GJamerton,  and  that 
consequently  his  appeal  to  her  sympathy  had  no  eflect  upon 
her.  Finding  she  made  no  other  answer,  Bruce  turned  to 
Annie. 

"  Noo,  Annie,"  said  he,  "  ye're  nae  wantit  here  ony  langer. 
I  hae  a  word  or  twa  to  say  to  Tibbie.  Gang  hame  and  learn 
yer  lessons-  for  the  morn." 

"  It's  Setterday  nicht,"  answered  Annie. 

"  But  ye  hae  yer  lessons  to  learn  for  the  Mononday." 

"  Ow  ay  !  But  I  hae  a  bulk  or  twa  to  tak'  hame  to  Mis- 
tress Forbes.  And  I  daursay  I'll  bide,  and  come  to  the  kirk 
wi'  her  i'  the  mornin'." 

Now,  although  all  that  Bruce  wanted  was  to  get  rid  of 
her,  he  went  on  to  oppose  her ;  for  common-minded  people 
always  feel  that  they  give  the  enemy  an  advantage  if  they 
show  themselves  content. 

"  It's  no  safe  to  rin  aboot  i'  the  mirk  {darJc).  It's  dingin' 
on  forbye.  Te'll  be  a'  wat,  and  maybe  fa'  into  the  dam.  Te 
couldna  see  yer  han'  afore  yer  face — ance  oot  o'  the  toon." 

"  I  ken  the  road  to  Mistress  Forbes's  as  weel's  the  road 
up  your  garret-stairs,  Mr  Bruce." 

"  Ow  nae  doobt !  "  he  answered,  with  a  sneering  acerbity 
peculiar  to  him,  in  which  his  voice  seemed  sharpened  and 
concentrated  to  a  point  by  the  contraction  of  his  lips.  "  And 
there's  tykes  aboot,"  he  added,  remembering  Annie's  fear  of 
dogs. 

But  by  this  time  Annie,  gentle  as  she  was,  had  got  a  little 
angry. 


198  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEiS'. 

"  The  LorcVll  tak  care  o'  me  frae  t"he  dark  and  the  tykes, 
and  the  lave  o'  ye,  Mr  Bruce,"  she  said. 

And  bidding  Tibbie  good-night,  she  took  up  her  books, 
and  departed,  to  wade  through  the  dark  and  the  snow,  trem- 
bling lest  some  unseen  tyhe  should  lay  hold  of  her  as  she  went. 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone,  Bruce  proceeded  to  make  him- 
self agreeable  to  Tibbie  by  retailing  all  the  bits  of  gossip  lie 
could  think  of.  While  thus  engaged,  he  kept  peering  earn- 
estly about  the  room  from  door  to  chimney,  turning  his  head 
on  every  side,  and  surveying  as  he  turned  it.  Even  Tibbie 
perceived,  from  the  changes  in  the  sound  of  his  voice,  that  he 
was  thus  occupied. 

"  Sae  your  auld  landlord's  deid,  Tibbie  !  "  he  said  at  last. 

"  Ay,  honest  man  !  He  had  aye  a  kin'  word  for  a  poor 
body." 

"Ay,  ay,  nae  doobt.  But  what  wad  ye  say  gin  I  tell't  ye 
that  I  had  boucht  the  bit  hoosie,  and  was  yer  new  landlord, 
Tibbie  ?  " 

"  I  wad  say  that  the  door-sill  wants  men'in',  to  hand  the 
snaw  oot ;  an'  the  bit  hoosie's  sair  in  want  o'  new  thack.  The 
vcrra  cupples'll  be  rottit  awa'  or  lang." 

"  Weel  that's  verra  rizzonable,  nae  doobt,  gin  a'  be  as  ye 
say." 

"  Be  as  I  say,  Eobert  Bruce  ?  " 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  ye  see  ye're  nae  a'thegither  like  ither  fowk.  I 
diuna  mean  ony  offence,  ye  ken,  Tibbie ;  but  ye  haena  the 
sieht  o'  yer  een." 

"Maybe  I  haena  the  feelin'  o'  my  auld  banes,  aither, 
Maister  Bruce  !  Maybe  I'm  ower  blin'  to  hae  the  rheiim- 
atize ;  or  to  smell  the  auld  weet  thack  whan  there's  been  a 
scatterin'  o'  snaw  or  a  drappy  o'  rain  o'  the  riggin'  !  " 

"  I  didna  want  to  anger  ye,  Tibbie.  A'  that  ye  say  de- 
serves attention.  It  would  be  a  shame  to  lat  an  auld  body 
like  you — " 

"  No  that  auld,  Maister  Bruce,  gin  ye  kent  the  trowth !  " 

"  Weel,  ye're  no  ower  young  to  need  to  be  ta'eu  guid  care 
o'— are  ye,  Tibbie  ?  " 

Tibbie  grunted. 

"  Weel,  to  come  to  the  pint.  There's  nae  doobt  tlie  hoose 
wants  a  hantle  o'  doctorin'." 

"  'Deed  does't,"  interposed  Tibbie.  "  It'll  want  a  \\qv\ 
door.  For  forbye  'at  the  door's  maist  as  wide  as  twa  ordinar 
doors,  it  was  ance  in  twa  halves  like  a  chop-door.  And  they're 
ill  jined  thegither,  and  the  win'  comes  throu  like  a  knife,  and 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  199 

maist  cuts  a  body  in  twa.  Te  see  the  bit  hoosie  was  ance 
the  dyer's  dryin'  hoose,  afore  he  gaed  further  doon  the  watter." 

"  Sae  doobt  ye're  richt,  Tibbie.  But  seein'  that  I  maun 
lay  oot  sae  muekle,  I'll  be  compelled  to  pit  anither  thrippence 
on  to  the  rent." 

"  Ither  thrippence,  Eobert  Bruce  !  That's  three  thrip- 
pences  i'  the  ook  in  place  o'  twa.  That's  an  unco  rise  !  Te 
canna  mean  what  ye  say !  It's  a'  that  I'm  able  to  do  to  pay 
my  saxpence.  An  auld  blin'  body  like  me  disna  fa'  in  wi' 
saxpences  whan  she  gangs  luikin  aboot  wi'  her  lang  fingers 
for  a  pirn  or  a  prin  that  she's  looten  fa'." 

"  But  ye  do  a  heap  o'  spinniu',  Tibbie,  wi'  thae  lang  fin- 
gers.    There's  naebody  in  G-lamerton  spins  like  ye." 

"  Maybe  ay  and  maybe  no.  It's  no  muekle  that  that 
comes  till.  I  wadna  spin  sae  weel  gin  it  warna  that  the 
Almichty  pat  some  sicht  into  the  pints  o'  my  fingers,  'cause 
there  was  nane  left  i'  my  een.  An'  gin  ye  mak  ither  thrip- 
pence a  week  oot  o'  that,  ye'U  be  turnin'  the  wather  that  He 
sent  to  ca  my  mill  into  your  dam ;  an'  I  doot  it'll  play  ill 
water  wi'  your  wheels." 

"  Hoot,  hoot !  Tibbie,  woman  !  It  gangs  sair  against  me 
to  appear  to  be  hard-hertit." 

"  1  hae  nae  doobt.  Te  dinna  want  to  ajjpear  sae.  But 
do  ye  ken  that  I  mak  sae  little  by  the  spinnin'  ye  mak  sae 
muekle  o',  that  the  kirk  alloos  me  a  shillin'  i'  the  week  to 
mak  up  wi'  ?  And  gin  it  warna  for  kin'  frien's,  it's  ill  livin' 
I  wad  hae  in  dour  weather  like  this.  Dinna  ye  imaigine,  Mr 
Bruce,  that  I  hae  a  pose  o'  my  ain.  I  hae  naething  ava,  excep' 
sevenpence  in  a  stockin'-fit.  And  it  wad  hae  to  come  afF  o' 
my  tay  or  something  ither  'at  I  wad  ill  miss." 

"  AVeel,  that  may  be  a'  verra  true,"  rejoined  Bruce  ;  "  but 
a  body  maun  hae  their  ain  for  a'  that.  Wadna  the  kirk  gie 
ye  the  ither  thrippence?  " 

"  Do  ye  think  I  wad  tak  frae  the  kirk  to  pit  into  your  tiU  ?  " 

"  AVeel,  say  saivenpence,  than,  and  we'll  be  quits." 

"  I  tell  ye  what,  Eobert  Bruce :  raither  nor  pay  ye  one 
bawbee  more  nor  the  saxpence,  I'll  turn  oot  i'  the  snaw,  and 
lat  the  Lord  luik  efter  me." 

Robert  Bruce  went  away,  and  did  not  purchase  the  cot- 
tage, which  was  in  the  market  at  a  low  price.  He  had  in- 
tended Tibbie  to  believe,  as  she  did,  that  he  had  already 
bought  it ;  and  if  she  had  agreed  to  pay  even  the  sevenpence, 
he  would  have  gone  from  her  to  secure  it. 

On  her  way  to  Howglen,  Annie  pondered  on  the  delight  of 
Tibbie — Tibbie  Dyster  who  had  never  seen  the  "  human  face 


200  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

divine  " — wlien  she  should  see  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,  most 
likely  the  first  face  she  would  see.  Then  she  turned  to  what 
Tibbie  had  said  about  knowing  light  from  knowing  the  Sa- 
viour. There  must  be  some  connection  between  what  Tibbie 
said  and  what  Thomas  had  said  about  the  face  of  God.  There 
was  a  text  that  said  "  Grod  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness 
at  all."  So  she  was  sure  that  the  light  that  was  in  a  Chris- 
tian, whatever  it  meant,  must  come  from  the  face  of  God. 
And  so  what  Thomas  said  and  what  Tibbie  said  might  be  only 
different  ways  of  saying  the  same  thing. 

Thus  she  was  in  a  measure  saved  from  the  perplexity 
which  comes  of  any  one  definition  of  the  holy  secret,  compel- 
ling a  man  to  walk  in  a  way  between  walls,  instead  of  in  a 
path  across  open  fields. 

There  was  no  day  yet  in  which  Annie  did  not  think  of  her 
old  champion  with  the  same  feeling  of  devotion  which  his 
championship  had  first  aroused,  although  all  her  necessities, 
hopes,  and  fears  were  now  beyond  any  assistance  he  could 
render.  She  was  far  on  in  a  new  path  :  he  was  loitering 
behind,  out  of  hearing.  He  would  not  have  dared  to  call  her 
solicitude  nonsense ;  but  he  would  have  set  down  all  such 
matters  as  belonging  to  women,  rather  than  youths  beginning 
the  world.  The  lessons  of  Thomas  Craun  were  not  despised, 
for  he  never  thought  about  them.  He  began  to  look  down 
upon  all  his  past,  and,  in  it,  upon  his  old  companions.  Since 
knowing  Kate,  who  had  more  delicate  habits  and  ways  than 
he  had  ever  seen,  he  had  begun  to  refine  his  own  modes  con- 
cerning outside  things ;  and  in  his  anxiety  to  be  like  her, 
while  he  became  more  polished,  he  became  less  genial  and 
wide-hearted. 

But  none  of  his  old  friends  forgot  him.  I  believe  not  a 
day  passed  in  which  Thomas  did  not  pray  for  him  in  secret, 
naming  him  by  his  name,  and  lingering  over  it  mournfully — 
"  Alexander  Forbes — the  young  man  that  I  thocht  wad  hae 
been  pluckit  frae  the  burnin'  afore  noo.  But  thy  time's  the 
best,  O  Lord.  It's  a'  thy  wark ;  an'  there's  no  good  thing  in 
us.  And  thou  canst  turn  the  hert  o'  man  as  the  rivers  o' 
water.  And  maybe  thou  hast  gi'en  him  grace  to  repent 
already,  though  I  ken  naething  aboot  it." 


201 


CHAPTEE  XLV. 

This  had  been  a  sore  winter  for  Thomas,  and  lie  had  had 
plenty  of  leisure  for  prayer.  For,  having  gone  up  on  a  scaf- 
fold one  day  to  see  that  the  wall  he  was  building  was  properly 
protected  from  the  rain,  he  slipped  his  foot  on  a  wet  pole, 
and  fell  to  the  ground,  whence,  being  a  heavy  man,  he  was 
lifted  terribly  shaken,  besides  having  one  of  his  legs  broken. 
Not  a  moan  escaped  him — a  murmur  was  out  of  the  question. 
They  carried  him  home,  and  the  surgeon  did  his  best  for  him. 
Nor,  although  few  people  liked  him  much,  was  he  left  un- 
visited  in  his  sickness.  The  members  of  his  own  religious 
community  recognized  their  obligation  to  minister  to  him; 
and  they  would  have  done  more,  had  they  guessed  how  poor 
he  was.  Nobody  knew  how  much  he  gave  away  in  other  di- 
rections ;  but  they  judged  of  his  means  by  the  amount  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  putting  into  the  plate  at  the  chapel-door 
every  Sunday.  There  was  never  much  of  the  silvery  shine  to 
be  seen  in  the  heap  of  copper,  but  one  of  the  gleaming  six- 
pences was  almost  sure  to  have  dropped  from  the  hand  of 
Thomas  Crann.  Not  that  this  generosity  sprung  altogether 
from  disinterested  motives ;  for  the  fact  was,  that  he  had  a 
morbid  fear  of  avarice  ;  a  fear  I  believe  not  altogether  ground- 
less ;  for  he  was  independent  in  his  feelings  almost  to  fierce- 
ness— certainly  to  ungraciousness ;  and  this  strengthened  a 
natural  tendency  to  saving  and  hoarding.  The  consciousness 
of  this  tendency  drove  him  to  the  other  extreme.  Jean, 
having  overheard  him  once  cry  out  in  an  agony,  "  Lord,  hae 
mercy  upo'  me,  and  deliver  me  frae  this  love  o'  money,  which 
is  the  root  of  all  evil,"  watched  him  in  the  lobby  of  the  chapel 
the  next  Sunday — "  and  as  sure's  deith,"  said  Jean — an  ex- 
pression which  it  was  weel  for  her  that  Thomas  did  not  hear — 
"  he  pat  a  siller  shillin'  into  the  plate  that  day,  mornin'  o/i' 
nicht." 

"  Tak'  care  hoo  ye  affront  him,  whan  ye  tak'  it,"  said 
Andrew  Constable  to  his  wife,  who  was  setting  out  to  carry 
him  some  dish  of  her  own  cooking — for  Andrew's  wife  be- 
longed to  the  missionars — "  for  weel  ye  ken  Thamas  likes  to 
be  unner  obligation  to  nane  but  the  Lord  himsel'." 

"  Lea'  ye  that  to  me,  Anerew,  my  man.  Tou  'at's  rouch 
men  disna  ken  hoo  to  do  a  thing  o'  that  sort.  I  s'  manage 
Thamas  weel  eneuch.    I  ken  the  nater  o'  him." 


202  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX. 

And  sure  enougli  he  ate  it  up  at  once,  that  she  might  take 
the  dish  back  with  her. 

Annie  went  every  day  to  ask  after  him,  and  every  day  had 
a  kind  reception  from  Jean,  who  bore  her  no  grudge  for  the  ig- 
nominious treatment  of  Thomas  on  that  evening  memorable  to 
Amiie.  At  length,  one  day,  after  many  weeks,  Jean  asked 
her  if  she  would  not  like  to  see  him. 

"  Ay  wad  I ;  richt  weel,"  answered  she. 

Jean  led  her  at  once  into  Thomas's  room,  where  he  lay  in 
a  bed  in  the  wall.  He  held  out  his  hand.  Annie  could 
hardly  be  said  to  take  it,  but  she  put  hers  into  it,  saying 
timidly, 

"  Is  yer  leg  verra  sair,  Thamas  ?  " 

"  Ow  na,  dawtie ;  nae  noo.  The  Lord's  been  verra  mer- 
cifu' — ^^jist  like  himsel'."  It  was  ill  to  bide  for  a  while 
whan  I  cudna  sleep.  But  I  jist  sleep  noo  like  ane  o'  the  be- 
loved." 

"  I  was  richt  sorry  for  ye,  Thamas." 

"  Ay.  Te've  a  kin'  hert,  lassie.  And  I  canna  help  thinkin' 
— they  may  say  what  they  like — but  I  canna  help  thinkin' 
that  the  Lord  was  sorry  for  me  himsel'.  It  cam'  into  my  heid 
as  I  lay  here  ae  nicht,  an'  cudna  sleep  a  wink,  and  cudna  rist, 
and  yet  daurna  muv  for  my  broken  hough.  And  as  sune's 
that  cam'  into  my  heid  I  was  sae  upliftit,  'at  I  forgot  a'  aboot 
my  leg,  and  begud,  or  ever  I  kent,  to  sing  the  hunner  and 
saivent  psalm.  And  syne  whan  the  pain  cam'  back  wi'  a 
terrible  stoon,  I  jist  amaist  leuch  ;  an  I  thoucht  that  gin  he 
wad  brack  me  a'  to  bits,  I  wad  never  cry  hand,  nor  turn  my 
finger  to  gar  him  stent.  Noo,  ye're  ane  o'  the  Lord's 
bairns — " 

"  Eh  !  I  dinna  ken,"  cried  Annie,  half-terrified  at  such  an 
assurance  from  Thomas,  and  the  responsibility  devolved  on 
her  thereby,  and  yet  delighted  beyond  expression. 

"  Ay  are  ye,"  continued  Thomas  confidently  ;  "  and  I  want 
to  ken  what  ye  think  aboot  it.  Do  ye  think  it  was  a  wrang 
thoeht  to  come  into  my  heid  ?  " 

.  "  IIoo  could  that  be,  Thomas,  whan  it  set  ye  a  siugin' — 
and  sic  a  psalm — '  0  that  men  would  praise  the  Lord  for  his 
goodness  ? '  " 

"  The  Lord  be  praised  ance  mair !  "  exclaimed  Thomas. 
"  '  Oot  o'  the  mooth  o'  babes  and  sucklin's  ! ' — no  that  ye're  jist 
that,  Annie,  but  ye're  no  muckle  mair.  Sit  ye  doon  aside 
me,  and  rax  ower  to  the  Bible,  and  jist  read  that  hunner  and 
saivent  psalm.     Eh,  lassie !  but  the  Lord  is  guid.     Oh !  that 


ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN.  203 

men  wad  praise  him  !    An'  to  care  for  tlie  praises  o'  sic  worms 
as  me  !     What  riclit  hae  I  to  praise  him  ?  " 

"  Te  hae  the  best  richt,  Thomas,  for  hasna  he  been  good 
to  ye? 

"  Te're  richt,  lassie,  ye're  richt.  It's  wonnerfu'  the  com- 
mon sense  o'  bairns.  Gin  ye  wad  jist  lat  the  Lord  instruck 
them !  I  doobt  we  mak  ower  little  o'  them.  Nae  doobt 
they're  born  in  sin,  and  brocht  farth  in  iniquity ;  but  gin 
they  repent  ear',  they  win  far  aheid  o'  the  auld  fowk." 

Thomas's  sufferings  had  made  him  more  gentle — and  more 
sure  of  Annie's  election.  He  was  one  on  whom  affliction  was  ^ 
not  thrown  away. — Annie  saw  him  often  after  this,  and  he 
never  let  her  go  without  reading  a  chapter  to  him,  his  remarks 
upon  which  were  always  of  some  use  to  her,  notwithstanding 
the  limited  capacity  and  formal  shape  of  the  doctrinal  moulds 
in  which  they  were  cast ;  for  wherever  there  is  genuine  reli- 
"  gious  feeling  and  experience,  it  will  now  and  then  crack  the 
prisoning  pitcher,  and  let  some  brilliant  ray  of  the  indwelling 
glory  out,  to  discomfit  the  beleaguering  hosts  of  troublous 
thoughts. 

Although  the  framework  of  Thomas  was  roughly  hewn,  he 
had  always  been  subject  to  such  fluctuations  of  feeling  as  are 
more  commonly  found  amongst  religious  women.  Sometimes, 
notwithstanding  the  visions  of  the  face  of  God  "  vouchsafed 
to  him  from  the  mercy-seat,"  as  he  would  say,  he  would  fall 
into  fits  of  doubting  whether  he  was  indeed  one  of  the  elect ; 
for  how  then  could  he  be  so  hard-hearted,  and  so  barren  of 
good  thoughts  and  feelings  as  he  found  hitnself  ?  At  such 
times  he  was  subject  to  an  irritation  of  temper,  alternately 
the  cause  and  effect  of  his  misery,  upon  which,  with  all  his 
efforts,  he  was  only  capable  yet  of  putting  a  very  partial 
check.  Woe  to  the  person  who  should  then  dare  to  inter- 
rupt his  devotions  !  If  Jean,  who  had  no  foresight  or  anti- 
cipation of  consequences,  should,  urged  by  some  supposed 
necessity  of  the  case,  call  to  him  through  the  door  bolted 
against  Time  and  its  concerns,  the  saint  who  had  been  kneel- 
ing before  God  in  utter  abasement,  self-contempt,  and 
wretchedness,  would  suddenly  wrench  it  open,  a  wrathful,  in- 
dignant man,  boiling  brimful  of  angry  words  and  unkind 
objurgations,  through  all  which  would  be  manifest,  notwith- 
standing, a  certain  unhappy  restraint.  Having  driven  the 
enemy  away  in  confusion,  he  would  bolt  his  door  again,  and 
return  to  his  prayers  in  two-fold  misery,  conscious  of  guilt 
increased  by  unrighteous  anger,  and  so  of  yet  another  wall  of 
separation  raised  between  him  and  his  God. 


204  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

Now  this  weakness  all  but  disappeared  during  the  worst 
of  his  illness,  to  return  for  a  season  with  increased  force  when 
his  recovery  had  advanced  so  far  as  to  admit  of  his  getting 
out  of  bed.  Children  are  almost  always  cross  when  recover- 
ing from  an  illness,  however  patient  they  may  have  been 
during  its  severest  moments ;  and  the  phenomenon  is  not  by 
any  means  confined  to  children. 

A  deacon  of  the  church,  a  worthy  little  weaver,  had  been 
half-officially  appointed  to  visit  Thomas,  and  find  out,  which 
was  not  an  easy  task,  if  he  was  in  want  of  anything.  When 
he  arrived,  Jean  was  out.  He  lifted  the  latch,  entered,  and 
tapped  gently  at  Thomas's  door — too  gently,  for  he  received 
no  answer.  With  hasty  yet  hesitating  imprudence,  he  open- 
ed the  door  and  peeped  in.  Thomas  was  upon  his  knees  by 
the  fire-side,  with  his  plaid  over  his  head.  Startled  by  the 
weaver's  entrance,  he  raised  his  head,  and  his  rugged  leonine 
face,  red  with  wrath,  glared  out  of  the  thicket  of  his  plaid 
upon  the  intruder.  He  did  not  rise,  for  that  would  have  been 
a  task  requiring  time  and  caution.  But  he  cried  aloud  in  a 
hoarse  voice,  with  his  two  hands  leaning  on  the  chair,  like  the 
paws  of  some  fierce  rampant  animal : 

"  Jeames,  ye're  takin'  the  pairt  o'  Sawton  upo'  ye,  drivin' 
a  man  frae  his  prayers  !  " 

"  Hoot,  Thamas !  I  beg  yer  pardon,"  answered  the 
weaver,  rather  flurried  ;  "  I  thoucht  ye  micht  hae  been  asleep." 

"  Ye  had  no  business  to  think  for  yer&el'  in  sic  a  maitter. 
What  do  ye  want?  " 

"  I  jist  cam'  to  see  whether  ye  war  in  want  o'  onvthing 
Thamas." 

"  I'm  in  want  o'  naething.     Gude  nicht  to  ye." 

"  But,  railly,  Thamas,"  expostulated  the  weaver,  embold- 
ened by  his  own  kindness — "  ye'U  excuse  me,  but  ye  hae  nae 
business  to  gang  doon  on  yer  knees  wi'  yer  leg  in  sic  a  weyk 
condeetion." 

"  I  winna  excuse  ye,  Jeames.  What  ken  ye  aboot  my  leg  ? 
And  what's  the  use  o'  knees,  but  to  gang  doon  upo'  ?  Gang 
hame,  and  gang  doon  upo'  yer  ain,  Jeames  ;  and  dinna  disturb 
ither  fowk  that  ken  what  theirs  was  made  for." 

Thus  admonished,  the  weaver  dared  not  linger.  As  he 
turned  to  shut  the  door,  he  wished  the  mason  good  night,  but 
received  no  answer.  Thomas  had  sunk  forward  upon  the 
chair,  and  had  already  drawn  his  plaid  over  his  head. 

But  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High  will  not  be  entered 
after  this  fashion  ;  and  Thomas  felt  that  he  was  shut  out.  It 
is  not  by  driving  away  our  brother  that  we  can  be  alone  with 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  205 

God.  Thomas's  plaid  could  not  isolate  him  with  his  Maker, 
for  communion  with  Grod  is  never  isolation.  In  such  a  mood, 
the  chamber  with  the  shut  door  shuts  out  God  too,  and  one 
is  left  alone  with  himself,  which  is  the  outer  darkness.  The 
love  of  the  brethren  opens  the  door  into  God's  chamber, 
which  is  within  ours.  So  Thomas — who  was  far  enough  from 
hating  his  brother,  who  would  have  struggled  to  his  feet  and 
limped  to  do  him  a  service,  though  he  would  not  have  held 
out  his  hand  to  receive  one,  for  he  was  only  good,  not  gra- 
cious—Thomas, I  say,  felt  worse  than  ever,  and  more  as  if 
God  had  forgotten  him,  than  he  had  felt  for  many  a  day. 
He  knelt  still  and  sighed  sore. 

At  length  another  knock  came,  which  although  very  gen- 
tle, he  heard  and  knew  well  enough. 

"Who's  there?  "  he  asked,  notwithstanding,  with  a  fresh 
access  of  indignant  feeling. 

"  Annie  Anderson,"  was  the  answer  through  the  door,  in 
a  tone  which  at  once  soothed  the  ruffled  waters  of  Thomas's 
spirit. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said. 

She  entered,  quiet  as  a  ghost. 

"  Come  awa',  Annie.  I'm  glaid  to  see  ye.  Jist  come  and 
kneel  doon  aside  me,  and  we'll  pray  thegither,  for  I'm  sair 
troubled  wi'  an  ill-temper." 

Without  a  word  of  reply,  Annie  kneeled  by  the  side  of 
his  chair.  Thomas  drew  the  plaid  over  her  head,  took  her 
hand,  which  was  swallowed  up  in  his,  and  after  a  solemn 
pause,  spoke  thus : 

"  0  Lord,  wha  dwellest  in  the  licht  inaccessible,  whom 
mortal  eye  hath  not  seen  nor  can  see,  but  who  dwellest  with 
him  that  is  humble  and  contrite  of  heart,  and  liftest  the  licht 
o'  thy  coontenance  upo'  them  that  seek  it,  O  Lord," — here 
the  solemnity  of  the  appeal  gave  way  before  the  out-bursting 
agony  of  Thomas's  heart — "  O  Lord,  dinna  lat's  cry  in  vain, 
this  thy  lammie,  and  me,  thine  auld  sinner,  but,  for  the  sake 
o'  him  wha  did  no  sin,  forgive  my  sins  and  my  vile  temper, 
and  help  me  to  love  my  neighbour  as  mysel'.  Lat  Christ 
dwell  in  me  and  syne  I  shall  be  meek  and  lowly  of  heart  like 
him.  Put  thy  speerit  in  me,  and  syne  I  shall  do  richt — no 
frae  mysel',  for  I  hae  no  good  thing  in  me,  but  frae  thy  speerit 
that  dwelleth  in  us." 

After  this  prayer,  Thomas  felt  refreshed  and  hopeful. 
With  slow  labour  he  rose  from  his  knees  at  last,  and  sinking 
into  his  chair,  drew  Annie  towards  him,  and  kissed  her.  Then 
he  said, 


206  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Will  ye  gang  a  bit  eeran'  for  me,  Annie  ?  " 

"  That  I  will,  Thomas.  I  wad  rin  mysel'  aff  o'  my  legs 
for  ye." 

"  Na,  na.  I  dinna  want  sae  muckle  rinnin'  the  nicht. 
But  I  wad  be  sair  obleeged  to  ye  gin  ye  wad  jist  rin  doon  to 
Jeames  Johnstone,  the  weyver,  and  tell  him,  wi'  my  coampli- 
ments,  ye  ken,  that  I'm  verra  sorry  I  spak'  till  him  as  I  did 
the  nicht ;  and  I  wad  tak  it  richt  kin'  o'  him  gin  he  wad 
come  and  tak  a  cup  o'  tay  wi'  me  the  morn's  nicht,  and  we 
cud  hae  a  crack  thegither,  and  syne  we  cud  hae  worship  the- 
gither.  And  tell  him  he  maunna  think  nae  mair  o'  the  way 
I  spak'  till  him,  for  I  was  troubled  i'  my  min',  and  I'm  an  ill- 
nater'd  man." 

"  I'll  tell  him  a'  that  ye  say,"  answered  Annie,  "  as  weel's 
I  can  min'  't ;  and  I  s'  warran'  I  s'  no  forget  muckle  o'  't. 
Wad  ye  like  me  to  come  back  the  nicht  and  tell  ye  what  he 
says  ?  " 

"  Na,  na,  lassie.  It'll  be  nearhan'  time  for  ye  to  gang  to 
yer  bed.  And  it's  a  cauld  nicht.  I  ken  that  by  my  leg.  And 
ye  see  Jeames  Johnstone's  no  an  ill-nater'd  man  like  me. 
He's  a  douce  man,  and  he's  sure  to  be  weel-pleased  and  come 
till's  tay.  Na,  na ;  ye  needna  come  back.  Gruid  nicht  to  ye, 
my  dawtie.  The  Lord  bless  ye  for  comin'  to  pray  wi'  an  ill- 
nater'd  man." 

Annie  sped  upon  her  mission  of  love  through  the  murky 
streets  and  lanes  of  Glamerton,  as  certainly  a  divine  messenger 
as  any  seraph  crossing  the  blue  empyrean  upon  level  wing. 
And  if  any  one  should  take  exception  to  this,  on  the  ground 
that  she  sought  her  own  service  and  neglected  home  duties,  I 
would,  although  my  object  has  not  been  to  set  her  forth  as  an 
exemplar,  take  the  opportunity  of  asking  whether  to  sleep  in  a 
certain  house  and  be  at  liberty  to  take  one's  meals  there,  be 
sufficient  to  make  it  home,  and  the  source  of  home-obligations 
— to  indicate  the  will  of  God  as  to  the  region  of  one's  labour, 
other  regions  lying  open  at  the  same  time.  Ought  Annie  to 
have  given  her  aid  as  a  child  where  there  was  no  parental  re- 
cognition of  the  relationship — an  aid  wliose  ^'alue  in  the  eyes 
of  the  Bruces  would  have  consisted  in  the  leisure  it  gave  to 
Mrs  Bruce  for  ministering  more  devotedly  in  the  temple  of 
Mammon  ?  I  put  the  question,  not  quite  sure  what  the 
answer  oujjht  to  be. 


207 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Now  ttat  Kate  had  got  a  companion,  Alec  never  saw  lier 
alone.  But  lie  had  so  much  the  better  opportunity  of  know- 
ing her.  Miss  Warner  was  a  nice,  open-eyed,  fair-faced 
English  girl,  with  pleasant  manners,  and  plenty  of  speech ; 
and  although  more  shy  than  Kate — English  girls  being  gener- 
ally more  shy  than  Scotch  girls — was  yet  ready  enough  to 
take  her  share  in  conversation.  Between  the  two.  Alec  soon 
learned  how  ignorant  he  was  in  the  things  that  most  interest 
girls.  Classics  and  mathematics  were  not  very  interesting  to 
himself,  and  anatomy  was  not  available.  He  soon  perceived 
that  they  were  both  fond  of  poetry ;  but  if  it  was  not  the 
best  poetry,  he  was  incapable  of  telling  them  so,  although  the 
few  lessons  he  had  had  were  from  a  better  mistress  than 
either  of  them,  and  with  some  better  examples  than  they  had 
learned  to  rejoice  in. 

The  two  girls  had  got  hold  of  some  volumes  of  Byron,  and 
had  read  them  together  at  school,  chiefly  after  retiring  to  the 
chamber  they  shared  together.  The  consequences  were  an 
unbounded  admiration  and  a  facility  of  reference,  with  the 
use  of  emotional  adjectives.  Alec  did  not  know  a  single 
poem  of  that  writer,  except  the  one  about  the  Assyrian 
coming  down  like  a  wolf  on  the  fold. 

Determined,  however,  not  to  remain  incapable  of  sympa- 
thizing with  them,  he  got  copies  of  the  various  poems  from 
the  library  of  the  college,  and  for  days  studied  Byron  and 
anatomy^nothing  else.  Like  all  other  young  men,  he  was 
absorbed,  entranced,  with  the  poems.  Childe  Harold  he 
could  not  read,  but  the  tales  were  one  fairy  region  after  an- 
other. Their  power  over  young  people  is  remarkable,  but 
not  more  remarkable  than  the  fact  that  they  almost  invariably 
lose  this  power  over  the  individual,  while  they  have  as  yet 
retained  it  over  the  race ;  for  of  all  the  multitude  which  does 
homage  at  the  shrine  of  the  poet  few  linger  long,  and  fewer 
still,  after  the  turmoil  of  life  has  yielded  room  for  thought, 
renew  their  homage.  Most  of  those  who  make  the  attempt 
are  surprised — some  of  them  troubled — at  the  discovery  that 
the  shrine  can  work  miracles  no  more.  The  Byi'on-fever  is  in 
fact  a  disease  belonging  to  )'"outh,  as  the  hooping-cough  to 
childhood, — working  some  occult  good  no  doubt  in  the  end. 
It  has  its  origin,  perhaps,  in  the  fact  that  the  poet  makes  no 
demand  either  on  the  intellect  or  the  conscience,  but  confines 


208  ALEC   rOBBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

h  mself  to  friendly  intercourse  with  those  passions  whose 
birth  long  precedes  that  of  choice  in  their  objects — whence  a 
wealth  of  emotion  is  squandered.  It  is  long  before  we  dis- 
cover that  far  richer  feeling  is  the  result  of  a  regard  bent  on 
the  profound  and  the  pure. 

^  Hence  the  chief  harm  the  poems  did  Alec,  consisted  in  the 
rousing  of  his  strongest  feelings  towards  imaginary  objects  of 
inferior  excellence,  with  the  necessary  result  of  a  tendency  to 
measure  the  worth  of  the  passions  themselves  by  their 
strength  alone,  and  not  by  their  character — by  their  degree, 
and  not  by  their  kind.  That  they  were  the  forge-bellows, 
supplying  the  blast  of  the  imagination  to  the  fire  of  love  in 
which  his  life  had  begun  to  be  remodelled,  is  not  to  be  count- 
ed among  their  injurious  influences. 

He  had  never  hitherto  meddled  with  his  own  thoughts  or 
feelings — had  lived  an  external  life  to  the  most  of  his  ability. 
Now,  through  falling  in  love,  and  reading  Byron,  he  began  to 
know  the  existence  of  a  world  of  feeling,  if  not  of  thought ; 
while  his  attempts  at  conversation  with  the  girls  had  a  con- 
densing if  not  crystallizing  influence  upon  the  merely  vapor- 
ous sensations  which  the  poetry  produced.  All  that  was 
wanted  to  give  full  force  to  the  other  influences  in  adding  its 
own,  was  the  presence  of  the  sultry  evenings  of  summer,  with 
the  thunder  gathering  in  the  dusky  air.  The  cold  days  and 
nights  of  winter  were  now  swathing  that  brain,  through 
whose  aerial  regions  the  clouds  of  passion,  driven  on  many 
shifting  and  opposing  winds,  were  hurrying  along  to  meet  in 
human  thunder  and  human  rain. 

I  will  not  weary  my  readers  with  the  talk  of  three  young 
people  enamoured  of  Byron.  Of  course  the  feelings  the  girls 
had  about  him  diftered  materially  from  those  of  Alec  ;  so  that 
a  great  many  of  the  replies  and  utterances  met  like  unskilful 
tilters,  whose  staves  passed  wide.  In  neither  was  the  admira- 
tion much  more  than  an  uneasy  delight  in  the  vivid  though 
indistinct  images  of  pleasure  raised  by  the  magic  of  that 
"  physical  force  of  words  "  in  which  Byron  excels  all  other 
English  poets,  and  in  virtue  of  which,  I  presume,  the  French 
persist  in  regarding  Byron  as  our  greatest  poet,  and  in  sup- 
posing that  we  agree  with  them. 

Alec  gained  considerably  with  Kate  from  becoming  able  to 
talk  about  her  favourite  author,  while  she  appeared  to  him 
more  beautiful  than  ever — the  changes  in  the  conversation 
constantly  bringing  out  new  phases  on  her  changeful  counten- 
ance. He  began  to  discover  now  what  I  have  already  ventur- 
ed to  call  the  Jluidity  of  her  expression  j  for  he  was  almost 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  209 

etartled  every  time  he  saw  "her,  by  finding  lier  different  from 
•nhat  he  had  expected  to  find  her.  Jean  Paul  somewhere 
makes  a  lamentation  over  the  fact  that  girls  will  never  meet 
you  in  the  morning  with  the  same  friendliness  with  which 
they  parted  from  you  the  night  before.  But  this  was  not  the 
kind  of  change  Alec  found.  She  behaved  with  perfect  even- 
ness to  hiri.1,  but  always  JooJced  different,  so  that  he  felt  as  if 
he  could  never  know  her  quite — which  was  a  just  conclusion, 
and  might  have  been  arrived  at  upon  less  remarkable  though 
more  important  grounds.  Occasionally  he  would  read  some- 
thing of  Byron's ;  and  it  was  a  delight  to  him  such  as  he  had 
never  known  before,  to  see  Kate's  strangely  beautiful  eyes  - 
flash  with  actual  visible  fire  as  he  read,  or  cloud  over  with 
mist  and  fill  slowly  with  the  dew  of  feeling.  No  doubt  he 
took  more  of  'the  credit  than  belonged  to  him — which  was 
greedy,  seeing  poor  B^-ron  had  none  of  the  pleasure. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  help  Mr  Cupples  gave  him  tow«ards 
the  end  of  the  session,  he  would  have  made  a  poor  figure  both 
in  Greek  and  mathematics.  But  he  was  so  filled  with  the 
phantasm  of  Kate  Fraser,  that,  although  not  insensible  of  his 
obligation  to  Mr  Cupples,  he  regarded  it  lightly ;  and,  ready 
to  give  his  life  for  a  smile  from  Kate,  took  all  his  kindness, 
along  with  his  drunken  wisdom,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

And  when  he  next  saw  Annie  and  Curly,  he  did  not  speak 
to  them  quite  so  heartily  as  on  his  former  return. 


CHAPTEE  XL VII. 


Ix  one  or  two  of  his  letters,  which  were  never  very  long, 
Alec  had  just  mentioned  Kate ;  and  now  Mrs  Forbes  had 
many  inquiries  to  make  about  her.  Old  feelings  and  thoughts 
awoke  in  her  mind,  and  made  her  wish  to  see  the  daughter  of 
her  old  companion.  The  absence  of  Annie,  banished  once 
more  at  the  suggestion  of  worldly  prudence,  but  for  whose 
quiet  lunar  smile  not  even  Alec's  sunny  presence  could  quite 
make  up,  contributed  no  doubt  to  this  longing  after  the  new 
maiden.  She  wrote  to  Mr  Fraser,  asking  him  to  allow  his 
niece  to  pay  her  a  visit  of  a  few  weeks  ;  but  she  said  nothing 
about  it  to  Alec.  The  arrangement  happened  to  be  conveni- 
ent to  Mr  Fraser,  who  wished  to  accept  an  invitation  himself. 
It  was  now  the  end  of  April ;  and  he  proposed  that  the  time 
should  be  fixed  for  the  beginning  of  June. 

14 


210  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

When  this  favourable  response  arrived,  Mrs  Porbes  gave 
Alec  the  letter  to  read,  and  saw  the  flush  of  delight  that  rose 
to  his  face  as  he  gathered  the  welcome  news.  Nor  was  this 
observation  unpleasant  to  her  ;  for  that  Alec  should  at  length 
marry  one  of  her  own  people  was  a  grateful  idea. 

Alec  sped  away  into  the  fields.  To  think  that  all  these 
old  familiar  places  would  one  day  be  glorified  by  her  presence! 
that  the  daisies  would  bend  beneath  the  foot  of  the  goddess ! 
and  the  everlasting  hills  put  on  a  veil  of  tenderness  from  the 
reflex  radiance  of  her  regard !  A  flush  of  summer  mantled 
over  the  face  of  nature,  the  flush  of  a  deeper  summer  than 
that  of  the  year — of  the  joy  that  lies  at  the  heart  of  all  sum- 
mers. For  a  whole  week  of  hail,  sleet,  and  "watery  sunbeams" 
followed,  and  yet  in  the  eyes  of  Alec  the  face  of  nature  still 
glowed. 

When,  after  long  expectation,  the  day  arrived,  Alec  could  not 
rest.  He  wandered  about  all  day,  haunting  his  mother  as  she 
prepared  his  room  for  Kate,  hurrying  away  with  a  sudden  sense 
of  the  propriety  of  indifference,  and  hurrying  back  on  some 
cunning  pretext,  while  his  mother  smiled  to  herself  at  his 
eagerness  and  the  transparency  of  his  artifice.  At  length,  as 
the  hour  drew  near,  he  could  restrain  himself  no  longer.  He 
rushed  to  the  stable,  saddled  his  pony,  which  was  in  nearly  as 
high  spirits  as  himself,  and  galloped  off"  to  meet  the  mail.  The 
sun  was  nearing  the  west ;  a  slight  shower  had  just  fallen ; 
the  thanks  of  the  thirsty  earth  were  ascending  in  odour;  and 
the  wind  was  too  gentle  to  shake  the  drops  from  the  leaves. 
To  Alec,  the  wind  of  his  own  speed  was  tlie  river  that  bore  her 
towards  him  ;  the  odours  were  wafted  from  her  approach ;  and 
the  sunset  sleepiness  around  was  the  exhaustion  of  the  region 
that  longed  for  her  Cytheraean  presence. 

At  last,  as  he  turned  a  corner  of  the  road,  there  was  the 
coach  ;  and  he  had  just  time  to  wheel  his  pony  about  before  it 
was  up  with  him.  A  little  gloved  hand  greeted  him  ;  the  window 
was  let  down  ;  and  the  face  he  had  been  longing  for  shone  out 
lovelier  than  ever.  There  was  no  inside  passenger  but  herself; 
and,  leaning  with  one  hand  on  the  coach-door,  he  rode  alongside 
till  they  drew  near  the  place  where  the  gig  was  waiting  for 
them,  when  he  dashed  on,  gave  his  pony  to  the  man,  was  ready 
to  help  her  as  soon  as  the  coach  stopped,  and  so  drove  her  home 
in  triumph  to  his  mother. 

Where  the  coach  stopped,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way, 
a  grassy  field,  which  fell  like  a  mantle  from  the  shoulders  of  a 
hill  crowned  with  firs,  sloped  down  to  the  edge  of  the  road. 
From  the  coach,  the  sun  was  hidden  behind  a  thick  clump  ot 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN  211 

trees,  but  bis  rays,  uow  red  with  rich  age,  flowed  in  a  wide 
stream  over  the  grass,  and  shone  on  an  old  Scotch  fir  which 
stood  a  yard  or  two  from  the  highway,  making  its  red  bark 
glow  like  the  pools  which  the  prophet  saw  in  the  desert.  At 
the  foot  of  this  tree  sat  Tibbie  Dyster ;  and  from  her  red 
cloak  the  level  sun-tide  was  thrown  back  in  gorgeous  glory ;  so 
that  the  eyeless  woman,  who  only  felt  the  warmth  of  the  great 
orb,  seemed,  in  her  effulgence  of  luminous  red,  to  be  the  light- 
fountain  whence  that  torrent  of  rubescence  burst.  From  her 
it  streamed  up  to  the  stem  and  along  the  branches  of  the  glow- 
ing fir ;  from  her  it  streamed  over  the  radiant  grass  of  the  up- 
sloping  field  away  towards  the  western  sun.  But  the  only  one 
who  saw  the  splendour  was  a  shoemaker,  who  rubbed  his  rosiny 
hands  together,  and  felt  happy  without  knowing  why. 

Alec  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  say  whether  or  not  ho 
had  seen  the  red  cloak.  But  from  the  shadowy  side  of  it  there 
were  eyes  shining  upon  him,  with  a  deeper  and  truer,  if  with  a 
calmer,  or,  say,  colder  devotion,  than  that  with  which  he  re- 
garded Kate.  The  most  powerful  rays  that  fall  from  the  sun  are 
neither  those  of  colour  nor  those  of  heat. — ^ Annie  sat  by  Tibbie's 
side — the  side  away  from  the  sun.  If  the  East  and  the  West 
might  take  human  shape — come  forth  in  their  Oreads  from 
their  hili-tops,  and  meet  half-way  between — there  they  were 
seated  side  by  side  :  Tibbie,  old,  scai-red,  Tjlind  Tibbie,  was  of 
the  west  and  the  sunset,  the  centre  of  a  blood-red  splendour; 
cold,  gentle  Annie,  with  her  dark  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  the  sad 
wisdom  of  her  pale  face,  was  of  the  sun-deserted  east,  between 
whose  gray  clouds,  faintly  smiling  back  tlie  rosiness  of  the 
sun's  triumphal  death,  two  or  three  cold  stars  were  waiting 
to  glimmer. 

Tibbie  had  come  out  to  bask  a  little,  and,  in  the  dark 
warmth  of  the  material  sun,  to  worship  that  Sun  whose  light 
she  saw  in  the  hidden  world  of  her  heart,  and  who  is  the  Sun 
of  all  the  worlds ;  to  breathe  the  air,  which,  through  her 
prison-bars,  spoke  of  freedom ;  to  give  herself  room  to  long 
for  the  hour  when  the  loving  Father  would  take  her  out  of 
the  husk  which  infolded  her,  and  say  to  her  :  "  See,  my  child.'" 
With  the  rest  of  the  travailing  creation,  she  was  groaning  in 
hopeful  pain — not  in  the  pain  of  the  mother,  but  in  tlie  pain 
of  the  child,  soon  to  be  forgotten  in  the  following  rest. 

If  my  younger  readers  want  to  follow  Kate  and  Alec 
home,  they  will  take  it  for  a  symptom  of  the  chill  approach  of 
"  unlovely  age,"  that  I  say  to  them  :  '  We  will  go  home  with 
Tibbie  and  Annie,  and  hear  what  they  say.  I  like  better  to 
tell  you  about  ugly  blind  old  Tibbie  than  about  beautiful 


212  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOW  GLEN. 

young  Kate. — But  you  sliall  "have  your  turn.  Do  not  think 
that  we  old  people  do  not  care  for  wliat  you  care  for.  We 
want  more  than  you  want — a  something  without  which  what 
you  like  best  cannot  last.' 

"  What  did  the  coch  stop  for,  Annie,  lass  ?  "  asked  Tibbie, 
as  scon  as  the  mail  had  driven  on. 

"It's  a  lady  gaein  to  Mistress  Forbes's  at  Howglen." 

"  Hoo  ken  ye  that  ?  " 

"  'Cause  Alec  Porbes  rade  oot  to  meet  her,  and  syne  took 
her  hame  i'  the  gig." 

"Ay!  ay!  I  thought  I  heard  mair  nor  the  ordinar  num- 
raer  o'  horse-feet  as  the  coch  cam'  up.  He's  a  braw  lad,  that 
Alec  Forbes — isna  he  ?  " 

"Ay  is  he,"  answered  Annie,  sadly;  not  from  jealousy, 
for  her  admiration  of  Alec  was  from  afar  ;  but  as  looking  up 
from  purgatorial  exclusion  to  the  paradise  of  Howglen,  where 
the  beautiful  lady  would  have  all  Mrs  Forbes,  and  Alec  too, 
to  herself. 

The  old  Avoman  caught  the  tone,  but  misinterpreted  it. 

"  I  doobt,"  she  said,  "  he  winna  get  ony  guid  at  that  col- 
lege." 

"  What  for  no  ?  "  returned  Annie.  "  I  was  at  the  school 
wi'  him,  and  never  saw  onythiug  to  fin'  fau't  wi'." 

"  Ow  na,  lassie.  Te  had  naething  to  do  fin'in'  fau't  wi' 
him.  His  father  was  a  douce  man,  an'  maybe  a  God-fearin' 
man,  though  he  made  but  sma'  profession.  I  think  we're 
whiles  ower  sair  upo'  some  o'  them  that  promises  little,  and 
maybe  does  the  mair.  Te  min'  what  ye  read  to  me  afore  we 
cam'  oot  thegither,  aboot  the  lad  that  «aid  fill's  father,  I  go 
not ;  but  afterwards  he  repented  and  gaed  ?  " 

"Ay." 

"  Weel,  I  think  we'll  gang  hame  noo." 

They  rose,  and  went,  hand  in  hand,  over  the  bridge,  and 
round  the  end  of  its  parapet,  aiid  down  the  steep  descent  to 
the  cottage  at  its  foot,  Tibbie's  cloak  shining  all  the  way,  but, 
now  that  the  sun  was  down,  with  a  chastened  radiance.  When 
she  had  laid  it  aside,  and  was  seated  on  her  low  wooden  chair 
within  reach  of  her  spinning-wheel, 

"  Noo,"  said  Tibbie,  "  ye'll  jist  read  a  chapter  till  me, 
lassie,  afore  ye  gang  hame,  and  syne  I  s'  gang  to  my  bed. 
Blin'ness  is  a  sair  savin'  o'  can'lcs." 

She  forgot  that  it  was  summer,  when,  in  those  northern 
regions,  the  night  has  no  time  to  gather  before  the  sun  is 
flashing  again  in  the  east. 

The  chapter  Annie  chose  was  the  ninth  of  St  John's 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  213 

Gospel,  about  Jesus  curing  the  man  blind  from  bis  birth. 
When  she  had  finished,  Annie  said, 

"  Michtna  he  cure  you,  Tibbie,  gin  ye  spiered  at  him  ?  " 

"  Ay  micht  he,  and  ay  will  he,"  answered  Tibbie.  "  I'm 
only  jist  bidin'  his  time.  But  I'm  thinkin'  he'll  cure  me  bet- 
ter yet  nor  he  cured  that  blin'  man.  He'll  jist  tak'  the  body 
aff  o'  me  a'thegither,  and  sjme  I'll  see,  no  wi'  een  like  yours, 
but  wi'  my  haill  speeritual  body.  Te  min'  that  verse  i'  the 
prophecees  o'  Ezakiel :  I  keu't  weel  by  hert.  It  says  :  '  And 
their  whole  boady,  and  their  backs,  and  their  ban's,  and  their 
wings,  and  the  wheels,  were  full  of  eyes  roon  aboot,  even  the 
wheels  that  they  four  had.'  Isna  that  a  gran'  text  ?  I  wiss 
Mr  Turnbull  wad  tak'  it  into  his  heid  to  preach  frae  that 
text  sometime  afore  it  comes,  which  winna  be  that  lang,  I'm 
thinkin'.     The  wheels'll  be  stoppin'  at  my  door  or  lang." 

"  What  gars  ye  think  that,  Tibbie?  There's  no  sign  o' 
deith  aboot  you,  I'm  sure,"  said  Annie. 

"  Weel,  ye  see,  I  canna  weel  say.  Blin'  fowk  somehoo 
kens  mair  nor  ither  fowk  aboot  things  that  the  sicht  o'  the 
een  has  unco  little  to  do  wi'.  But  never  min'.  I'm  willin' 
to  bide  i'  the  dark  as  lang  as  He  likes.  It's  eneuch  for  ony 
bairn  to  ken  that  its  father's  stan'in'  i'  the  licht,  and  seein' 
a'  aboot  him,  and  sae  weel  able  to  guide  hit,  though  it  kensna 
whaur  to  set  doon  its  fit  neist.  And  I  wat  He's  i'  the  licht. 
Te  min'  that  bit  aboot  the  Lord  pittin'  Moses  intil  a  clift  o' 
the  rock,  and  syne  coverin'  him  wi'  his  han'  till  he  was  by 
him?" 

"  Ay,  fine  that,"  answered  Annie.  - 

"  AVeel,  I  canna  help  thinkin'  whiles,  that  the  dark  aboot 
me's  jist  the  how  o'  the  Lord's  ban' ;  and  I'm  like  Moses, 
only  wi'  this  differ,  that  whan  the  Lord  tak's  his  ban'  aff  o' 
me,  it'll  be  to  lat  me  luik  i'  the  face  o'  him,  and  no  to  lat  me 
see  only  his  back  pairts,  which  was  a'  that  he  had  the  sicht 
o' ;  for  ye  see  Moses  was  i'  the  body,  and  cudna  bide  the 
sicht  o'  the  face  o'  God.  I  daursay  it  wad  hae  blin'  't  him. 
I  hae  heard  that  ower  muckle  licht'll  ca  fowk  blin'  whiles. 
AVhat  think  ye,  lassie  ?  " 

"  Ay ;  the  lichtnin'  blin's  fowk  whiles.  And  gin  I  luik 
straucht  at  the  sun,  I  can  see  nothing  efter't  for  a  whilie." 

"  I  tell  ye  sae  !  "  exclaimed  Tibbie  triumphantly.  "  And 
do  ye  min'  the  veesion  that  the  apostle  John  saw  in  Pawt- 
mos  ?  I  reckon  he  micht  hae  thocht  lang  there,  a'  him  lane, 
gin  it  hadna  been  for  the  bonnie  things,  and  the  gran'  things, 
and  the  terrible  things  'at  the  Lord  loot  him  see.  They  loar 
gran'  sichts !     It  was  the  veesion  o'  the  Saviour  himsel' — 


214  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

Christ  timsel' ;  and  he  says  that  Lis  coontenance  was  as  tlie 
sun  shineth  in  his  strength.     What  think  ye  o'  that,  lass  ! " 

This  was  not  a  question,  but  an  exulting  exclamation. 
The  A'ision  in  Patmos  proved  that  although  Moses  must  not 
see  the  face  of  God  because  of  its  brightness,  a  more  favoured 
propliet  might  have  the  vision.  And  Tibbie,  who  had  a  share 
in  the  privileges  of  the  new  covenant,  who  was  not  under  the 
law  like  Moses,  but  under  grace  like  John,  would  one  day  see 
the  veil  of  her  blindness  shrivel  away  from  before  her  deeper 
eyes,  burnt  up  by  the  glory  of  that  face  of  God,  which  is  a 
consuming  fire.^ — I  suppose  that  Tibbie  was  right  in  the  main. 
But  was  it  not  another  kind  of  brightness,  a  brightness  without 
effulgence,  a  brightness  grander  and  more  glorious,  shining  in 
love  and  patience,  and  tenderness  and  forgiveness  and  excuse, 
that  Moses  was  unfit  to  see,  because  he  was  not  well  able  to 
understand  it,  until,  ages  after,  he  descended  from  heaven 
upon  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration,  and  the  humble  son  of 
God  went  up  from  the  lower  earth  to  meet  him  there,  and 
talk  with  him  face  to  face  as  a  man  with  his  friend  ? 

Annie  went  home  to  ber  garret.  It  was  a  singular  ex- 
perience the  child  had  in  the  changes  that  came  to  her  witli 
the  seasons.  The  winter  with  its  fi'ost  and  bitter  winds 
brought  her  a  home  at  Howglen  ;  the  summer,  whose  airs  Avere 
molten  kisses,  took  it  away,  and  gave  her  the  face  of  nature 
instead  of  the  face  of  a  human  mother.  For  the  snug  little 
chamber  in  wbich  she  heard  with  a  quiet  exultation  the  fierce 
rush  of  the  hail-scattering  tempest  against  the  window,  or  the 
fluffy  fall  of  the  snow-flakes,  like  hands  of  fairy  babies  patting 
the  glass,  and  fancied  herself  out  in  the  careering  storm, 
hovering  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  over  the  house  in  which 
she  lay  soft  and  warm — she  had  now  the  garret  room,  in  which 
the  curtainless  bed,  with  its  bare  poles,  looked  like  a  vessel  in 
distress  at  sea,  and  through  the  roof  of  which  the  winds  found 
easy  way.  But  the  winds  were  warm  now,  and  through  the 
skylight  the  sunbeams  illuminated  the  floor,  showing  all  the 
rat-holes  and  wretchedness  of  decay. 

There  was  comfort  out  of  doors  in  the  daytime — in  the  sky 
and  the  fields  and  all  the  "  goings-on  of  life."  And  this  night, 
after  this  talk  with  Tibbie,  Annie  did  not  much  mind  going 
back  to  the  garret.  Nor  did  she  lie  awake  to  think  about  the 
beautiful  lady  Alec  had  taken  home  with  him. 

And  she  dreamed  again  that  she  saw  the  Son  of  Man. 
There  was  a  vei]  over  his  face  like  the  veil  that  INEoses  wore, 
but  the  face  was  so  bright  that  it  almost  melted  the  veil  awny, 
and  she  saw  what  made  her  love  that  face  more  than  the  pre- 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  215 

seiiee  of  Alec,  more  than  tlie  kindness  of  Mrs  Forbes  or 
Dowie,  more  than  tlie  memory  of  lier  father. 


CHAPTER  XL VIII. 


Alec  did  not  fall  asleep  so  soon.  The  thought  that  Kate 
vras  in  the  house — asleep  in  the  next  room,  kept  him  awake. 
Tet  he  woke  the  next  morning  earlier  than  usual.  There  were 
bands  of  golden  light  upon  the  wall,  though  Kate  would  not 
be  awake  for  hours  yet. 

He  sprung  out  of  bed,  and  ran  to  the  banks  of  the 
Glamour.  Upon  the  cold  morning  stream  the  sun-rays  fell 
slanting  and  gentle.  He  plunged  in,  and  washed  the  dreams 
from  his  eyes  with  a  dive,  and  a  swim  under  water.  Then 
he  rose  to  the  surface  and  swam  slowly  about  under  the  over- 
hanging willows,  and  earthy  banks  hollowed  by  the  river's 
flow  into  cold  damp  caves,  np  into  the  brown  shadows 
of  which  the  water  cast  a  flickering  shimmer.  Then  he 
dressed  himself,  and  lay  down  on  the  meadow  grass,  each  blade 
of  which  shadowed  its  neighbour  in  the  slant  sunlight.  Cool 
as  it  still  was  with  the  coldness  of  the  vanished  twilight,  it 
yet  felt  warm  to  his  bare  feet,  fresh  from  the  waters  that  had 
crept  down  through  the  night  from  the  high  moor-lands.  He 
fell  fast  asleep,  and  the  sheep  came  and  fed  about  him,  as  if 
he  had  been  one  of  themselves.  When  he  woke,  the  sun  was 
high ;  and  when  he  reached  the  house,  he  found  his  mother 
and  Kate  already  seated  at  breakfast — Kate  in  the  prettiest 
of  cotton  dresses,  looking  as  fresh  and  country-like  as  the 
morning  itself.  The  window  was  open,  and  through  the 
encircling  ivy,  as  through  a  filter  of  shadows,  the  air  came 
fresh  and  cool.  Beyond  the  shadow  of  the  house  lay  the  sun- 
shine, a  warm  sea  of  brooding  glory,  of  still  power ;  not  the 
power  of  flashing  into  storms  of  splendour  beneath  strange 
winds,  but  of  waking  up  and  cherishing  to  beauty  the  shy  life 
that  lay  hidden  in  all  remotest  corners  of  the  teeming  earth. 

"  "\Vhat  are  you  going  to  do  with  Kate  to-day,  Alec  ?  "  said 
his  mother. 

"  Whatever  Kate  likes,"  answered  Alec. 

"  I  have  no  choice,"  returned  Kate.  "  T  don't  know  yet 
what  I  have  to  choose  between.     I  am  in  your  hands.  Alec." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  called  him  by  his  name,  and 
a  spear  of  sunshine  seemed  to  quiver  in  his  heart.     He  was 


216  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

restless  as  a  liyena  till  she  was  readj.  He  then  led  her  to  the 
banks  of  the  river,  here  low  and  grassy,  with  plenty  of  wild 
flowers,  and  a  low  babblement  everywhere. 

"  Tills  is  delightful,"  said  Kate.  "  I  will  come  here  as 
often  as  you  like,  and  you  shall  read  to  me." 

"  What  shall  I  read  ?  "Would  you  like  one  of  Sir  Walter's 
novels  ?  " 

"  Just  the  thing." 

Alee  started  at  full  speed  for  the  house. 

"Stop,"  cried  Kate.  "You  are  not  going  to  leave  me 
alone  beside  this — talking  water  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  liked  the  water,"  said  Alec. 

"  Yes.  But  I  don't  want  to  be  left  alone  beside  it.  I  will 
go  with  you,  and  get  some  work." 

She  turned  away  from  the  stream  with  a  strange  backward 
look,  and  they  walked  home. 

But  as  Kate  showed  some  disinclination  to  return  to  the 
river-side,  Alec  put  a  seat  for  her  near  the  house,  in  the  shadow 
of  a  silver  birch,  and  threw  himself  on  the  grass  at  her  feet. 
There  he  began  to  read  the  Antiqiiari/,  only  half  understanding 
it,  in  the  enchantment  of  knowing  that  he  was  lying  at  her  feet, 
and  had  only  to  look  up  to  see  her  eyes.  At  noon,  Mrs  Forbes 
sent  them  a  dish  of  curds,  and  a  great  jug  of  cream,  with  oat- 
cakes, and  butter  soft  from  the  churn  ;  and  the  rippling  shadow 
of  the  birch  played  over  the  white  curds  and  the  golden  butter 
as  they  ate. 

Am  I  not  now  fairly  afloat  upon  the  gentle  stream  of  an 
idyl  ?  Shall  1  watch  the  banks  as  they  glide  past,  and  record 
each  fairy-headed  flower  that  looks  at  its  image  in  the  wave  ? 
Or  shall  I  mow  them  down  and  sweep  them  together  in  a 
sentence  ? 

I  will  gather  a  few  of  the  flowers,  and  leave  the  rest.  But 
first  I  will  make  a  remark  or  two  upon  the  young  people. 

Those  amongst  my  readers  who  have  had  the  happiness  to 
lead  innocent  boy-lives,  will  know  what  a  marvellous  delight  it 
was  to  Alec  to  have  this  girl  near  him  in  his  own  home  and  his 
own  haunts.  He  never  speculated  on  her  character  or  nature, 
any  more  than  Hamlet  did  about  those  of  Ophelia  before  he 
was  compelled  to  doubt  womankind.  His  own  principles  were 
existent  only  in  a  latent  condition,  undeveloped  from  good  im- 
pulses and  kind  sentiments.  For  instance :  he  would  help  any 
one  whose  necessity  happened  to  make  an  impression  upon 
him,  but  he  never  took  pains  to  enter  into  the  feelings  of 
others — to  understand  them  from  their  own  point  of  view  :  he 
never  had  said  to  himself,  "  That  is  another  me." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  217 

Correspondent  to  this  condition  were  some  of  Kate's  the- 
ories of  life  and  its  duties. 

The  question  came  up,  whether  a  certain  Lidy  in  fiction  had 
done  right  in  running  away  with  her  lover.  ^Irs  Forbes  made 
a  rather  decided  remark  on  the  subject,  Kate  said  nothing, 
but  her  face  glowed. 

"  Tell  us  what  you  think  about  it,  Katie,"  said  Mrs  Forbes. 

Katie  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  with  the  air  of  a 
martyr,  from  whom  the  rack  can  only  extort  a  fuller  confession 
of  his  faith — though  I  fear  she  had  no  deeper  gospel  at  the 
root  of  it  than  Byron  had  brought  her — she  answered : 

"  I  think  a  woman  must  give  up  everything  for  love." 

She  was  then  precisely  of  the  same  opinion  as  Jean  Paul's 
Linda  in  Titan. 

"  That  is  very  true,  I  daresay,"  said  IMrs  Porbes  ;  "  but  I 
fear  you  mean  only  one  kind  of  love.  Does  a  woman  owe  no 
love  to  her  father  or  mother  because  she  has  a  lover  ?  " 

To  this  plain  question  Kate  made  no  reply,  but  her  look 
changed  to  one  of  obstinacy. 

Her  mother  died  when  she  was  a  child,  and  her  father  had 
kept  himself  shut  up  in  his  study,  leaving  her  chiefly  to  the 
care  of  a  Shetland  nurse,  who  told  her  Scandinavian  stories 
from  morning  to  night,  with  invention  ever  ready  to  supply 
any  blank  in  the  tablets  of  her  memory. 

Alec  thought  his  mother's  opinion  the  more  to  be  ap- 
proved, and  Kate's  the  more  to  be  admired ;  showing  the  lack 
of  entireuess  in  his  nature,  by  thus  dissociating  the  good  and 
the  admirable.  That  which  is  best  cannot  be  less  admirable 
than  that  which  is  not  best. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 


The  next  day  saw  Alec  walking  by  the  side  of  Kate 
mounted  on  his  pony,  up  a  steep  path  to  the  top  of  one  of  the 
highest  hills  surrounding  the  valley.  It  was  a  wild  hill, 
with  hardly  anything  growing  on  it  but  heather,  which  would 
make  it  regal  with  purple  in  the  autumn :  no  tree  could 
stand  the  blasts  that  blew  over  that  hill  in  winter.  Having 
climbed  to  the  topmost  point,  they  stood  and  gazed.  The 
country  lay  outstretched  beneath  in  the  glow  of  the  June 
day,    while    around   them    flitted   the   cool   airs    of  heaven 


218  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

Above  them  rose  the  soaring  blue  of  the  June  skj,  with  a 
white  cloud  or  two  floating  in  it,  and  a  blue  peak  or  two 
leaning  its  colour  against  it.  Through  the  green  grass  and 
the  green  corn  below  crept  two  silvery  threads,  meeting  far 
away  and  flowing  in  one — the  two  rivers  which  watered  the 
valley  of  Strath  glamour.  Between  the  rivers  lay  the  gray 
stone  town,  with  its  roofs  of  thatch  and  slate.  One  of  its 
main  streets  stopped  suddenly  at  the  bridge  with  the  three 
arches  above  Tibbie's  cottage ;  and  at  the  other  end  of  the 
bridge  lay  the  green  fields. 

The  landscape  was  not  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  but  it 
had  a  beauty  of  its  own,  which  is  all  a  country  or  a  woman 
needs ;  and  Kate  sat  gazing  about  her  in  evident  delight. 
She  had  taken  off  her  hat  to  feel  the  wind,  and  her  hair  fell 
in  golden  heaps  upon  her  shoulders,  and  the  wind  and  the 
sunbeams  played  at  hide-and-seek  in  it. 

In  a  moment  the  pleasure  vanished  from  her  face.  It 
clouded  over,  while  the  country  lay  full  in  the  sun.  Her 
eyes  no  longer  looked  wide  abroad,  but  expressed  defeat  and 
retirement.     Listlessly  she  began  to  gather  her  hair  together. 

"  Do  you  ever  feel  as  if  you  could  not  get  room  enough. 
Alec  ?  "  she  said,  wearily. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  he  answered,  honestly  and  stupidly.  "  I 
have  always  as  much  as  I  want.  I  should  have  thought  you 
would — up  here." 

"  I  did  feel  satisfied  for  a  moment ;  but  it  was  only  a 
moment.  It  is  all  gone  now.  I  shall  never  have  room 
enough." 

Alec  had  nothing  to  say  in  reply.  He  never  had  anything 
to  give  Kate  but  love;  and  now  he  gave  her  more  love.  It 
was  all  he  was  rich  in.  But  she  did  not  care  for  his  riches. 
And  so,  after  gazing  a  while,  she  turned  towards  the  descent. 
Alec  picked  up  her  hat,  and  took  his  place  at  the  pony's  head. 
He  was  not  so  happy  as  he  thought  he  should  be.  Somehow 
she  was  of  another  order,  and  he  could  not  understand  her — 
he  could  only  worship  her. 

The  whole  of  the  hot  afternoon  they  spent  on  the  grass, 
whose  mottling  of  white  clover  filled  the  wandering  airs  with 
the  odours  of  the  honey  of  Ilyniettus.  And  after  tea  Kate 
sang,  and  Alec  drank  every  tone  as  if  his  soul  lived  by  hear- 

In  this  region  the  sun  works  long  after  hours  in  the 
summer,  and  they  went  out  to  see  him  go  down  weary. 
They  leaned  together  over  the  gate  and  looked  at  the  level 
glory,  which  now  burned  red  and  dim.     Lamp  of  life,  it  burns 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  219 

all  niglit  long  in  the  eternal  night  of  the  universe,  to  chase 
the  primeval  darkness  from  the  great  entrance  hall  of  the 
"  human  mortals." 

"  What  a  long  shadow  everything  throws  !  "  said  Kate. 
"  When  the  shadows  gather  all  together,  and  melt  into  one, 
then  it  is  night.  Look  how  the  light  creeps  about  the  roots 
of  the  grass  on  the  ridge,  as  if  it  were  looking  for  something 
between  the  shadows.  They  are  both  going  to  die.  Now 
they  begin." 

The  sun  diminished  to  a  star — a  spark  of  crimson  fire, 
and  vanished.  As  if  he  had  sunk  in  a  pool  of  air,  and  made 
it  overflow,  a  gentle  ripple  of  wind  blew  from  the  sunset  over 
the  grass.  They  could  see  the  grass  bending  and  swaying 
and  bathing  in  its  coolness  before  it  came  to  them.  It  blew 
on  their  faces  at  length,  and  whispered  something  they  could 
not  understand,  making  Kate  think  of  her  mother,  and  Alec 
of  Kate. 

Now  that  .same  breeze  blew  upon  Tibbie  and  Annie,  as 
they  sat  in  the  patch  of  meadow  by  the  cottage,  between  the 
river  and  the  litster's  dam.  It  made  Tibbie  think  of  death, 
the  opener  of  sleeping  eyes,  the  uplifter  of  hanging  hands. 
Por  Tibbie's  darkness  was  the  shadow  of  her  grave,  on  the 
further  border  of  which  the  light  was  breaking  in  music. 
Death  and  resurrection  were  the  same  thing  to  blind  old 
Tibbie. 

When  the  gentle,  washing  wind  blew  upon  Annie,  she 
thought  of  the  wind  that  bloweth  were  it  listeth  ;  and  that, 
if  ever  the  Spirit  of  God  blew  upon  her,  she  would  feel  it  just 
like  that  wind  of  summer  sunset — so  cool,  so  blessed,  so 
gentle,  so  living !  And  was  it  not  God  that  breathed  that 
wind  upon  her  ?  Was  he  not  even  then  breathing  his  Spirit 
into  the  soul  of  that  woman-child  ? 

It  blew  upon  Andrew  Constable,  as  he  stood  in  his  shop- 
door,  the  easy  labour  of  his  day  all  but  over.  And  he  said  to 
his  little  weasel-fjiced,  douce,  old-fashioned  child  who  stood 
leaning  against  the  other  door-cheek  : 

"That's  a  fine  caller  bit  blastie,  Isie !  Dinna  ye  like  to 
fin'  't  blawin'  upo'  yer  het  cheeks,  dawtie  ?  " 

And  she  answered, 

"  Ay,  I  like  it  weel,  daddie ;  but  it  min's  me  some  upo' 
the  winter." 

And  Andrew  looked  anxiously  at  the  pale  face  of  his 
child,  who,  at  six  ^^ears  old,  in  the  month  of  June,  had  no 
business  to  know  that  there  was  ai-v  winter.     But  she  was 


220  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

the  child  of  elderly  parents,  and  had  not  been  born  in  time  ; 
so  that  she  was  now  in  reality  about  twenty. 

It  blew  upon  liobert  Bruce,  who  had  just  run  out  into  the 
yard,  to  see  how  his  potatoes  and  cabbages  were  coming  on. 
He  said 

"  It's  some  cauld,"  and  ran  in  again  to  put  on  his  hat. 

Alec  and  Kate,  I  have  said,  stood  looking  into  the  dark- 
ening field.  A  great  flock  of  rooks  which  filled  the  air  with 
their  rooky  gossip,  was  flying  straight  home  to  an  old  gray 
ruin  just  visible  amongst  some  ancient  trees.  They  had  been 
gathering  worms  and  grubs  all  day,  and  now  it  was  bed  time. 
They  felt,  through  all  their  black  feathers,  the  coolness  of 
that  evening  breeze  which  came  from  the  cloudy  mausoleum 
already  built  over  the  grave  of  the  down-gone  sun. 

Kate  hearing  them  rejoicing  far  overhead,  searched  for 
them  in  the  darkening  sky,  found  them,  and  watched  their 
flight,  till  the  black  specks  were  dissolved  in  the  distance. 
They  are  not  the  most  poetic  of  birds,  but  in  a  darkening 
cuuntry  twilight,  over  silent  fields,  they  blend  into  the  general 
tone,  till  even  their  noisy  caw  suggests  repose.  But  it  was 
room  Kate  wanted,  not  rest.  She  would  know  one  day,  how- 
ever, that  room  and  rest  are  the  same,  and  that  the  longings 
for  both  spring  from  the  same  need. 

"  What  place  is  that  in  the  trees  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  old  Castle  of  Griamertou,"  answered  Alec.  "  Would 
you  like  to  go  and  see  it  ?  " 

"Yes ;  very  much." 

"  "We'll  go  to-morrow,  then." 

"  The  dew  is  beginning  to  fall,  Kate,"  said  Mrs  Forbes, 
who  now  joined  them.     "  You  had  better  come  in." 

Alec  lingered  behind.  An  unknown  emotion  drew  his 
heart  towards  the  earth.  He  would  see  her  go  to  sleep  in 
the  twilight,  which  was  now  beginning  to  brood  over  her,  as 
with  the  brown  wings  of  a  lovely  dull-hued  hen-bird.  The 
daisies  were  all  asleep,  spotting  the  green  grass  with  stars  of 
carmine ;  for  their  closed  red  tips,  like  the  finger-points  of 
two  fairy  hands,  tenderly  joined  together,  pointed  up  in  little 
cones  to  keep  the  yellow  stars  warm  within,  that  they  might 
shine  bright  when  the  great  star  of  day  came  to  look  for 
them.  The  light  of  the  down-gone  sun,  the  garment  of 
Aurora,  which,  so  short  would  bo  her  rest,  she  had  not  drawn 
close  around  her  on  her  couch,  floated  up  on  the  horizon,  and 
swept  slowly  northwards,  lightly  upborne  on  that  pale  sea  of 
delicate   green   and   gold,  to   flicker   all  night  around   the 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 


221 


northern  coast  of  the  sky,  and,  streaming  up  in  the  heavens, 
melt  at  last  in  the  glory  of  the  uprisen  Titan.  The  trees 
stood  still  and  shadowy  as  clouds,  but  breathing  out  myste- 
rious odours.  The  stars  overhead,  half-molten  away  in  the 
ghostly  light  that  would  not  go,  were  yet  busy  at  their  night- 
work,  ministering  to  the  dark  sides  of  the  other  worlds. 
There  was  no  mooii.  A  wide  stillness  and  peace,  as  of  a  heart 
at  rest,  filled  space,  and  lying  upon  the  human  souls  with  a 
persistent  quietness  that  might  be  felt,  made  them  know 
what  might  be  theirs.  Now  and  then  a  bird  sprang  out  with 
a  sudden  tremor  of  leaves,  suddenly  stilled.  But  the  bats 
came  and  went  in  silence,  like  feelings  yet  unembodied  in 
thoughts,  vanishing  before  the  sight  had  time  to  be  startled 
at  their  apjDearing.  All  was  marvel.  And  the  marvel  of  all 
was  there — where  the  light  glimmered  faintly  through  the 
foliage.  He  approached  the  house  with  an  awe  akin  to  that 
with  which  an  old  poetic  Egyptian  drew  near  to  the  chamber 
of  the  goddess  Isis. 

He  entered,  and  his  Isis  was  laughing  merrily. 

In  the  morning,  great  sun-crested  clouds  with  dark  sides 
hung  overhead ;  and  while  they  sat  at  breakfast,  one  of 
those  glorious  showers,  each  of  whose  great  drops  carries  a 
sun-spark  in  its  heart,  fell  on  the  walks  with  a  tumult  of 
gentle  noises,  and  on  the  grass  almost  as  silently  as  if  it  had 
been  another  mossy  cloiid.  The  leaves  of  the  ivy  hanging 
over  the  windows  quivered  and  shook,  each  for  itself,  beneath 
the  drops  ;  and  between  the  drops,  one  of  which  would  have 
beaten  him  to  the  earth,  wound  and  darted  in  safety  a  great 
humble  bee. 

Kate  and  Alec  went  to  the  open  window  and  looked  out 
on  the  rainy  world,  breathing  the  odours  released  from  the 
grass  and  the  ground.  Alec  turned  from  the  window  to 
Kate's  face,  and  saw  upon  it  a  keen,  yet  solemn  delight. 
But  as  he  gazed,  he  saw  a  cloud  come  over  it.  The  arched  upper 
lip  dropped  sadly  upon  the  other,  and  she  looked  troubled 
and  cold.  Instinctively  he  glanced  out  again  for  the  cause. 
The  rain  had  become  thick  and  small,  and  a  light  opposing 
wind  disordered  its  descent  with  broken  and  crossing  lines. 

This  change  from  a  summer  to  a  winter  rain  had  altered 
Kate's  mood,  and  her  face  was  now,  as  always,  a  reflex  of  the 
face  of  nature. 

"  Shut  the  window,  please  Alee,"  she  said,  with  a  shiver. 

"  "We'll  have  a  fire  directly,"  said  Alec. 

"  ISTo,  no,"  returned  Kate,  trying  to  smile.  "  Just  fetch 
me  a  shawl  from  the  closet  in  my  room." 


222 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 


Alec  had  not  been  in  his  own  room  since  Kate  came.  Ho 
entered  it  with  a  kind  of  gentle  awe,  and  stood  just  within 
the  door,  gazing  as  if  rebuked. 

From  a  pair  of  tiny  shoes  under  the  dressing-table, 
radiated  a  whole  roomful  of  feminity.  He  was  almost  afraid 
to  go  further,  and  would  not  have  dared  to  look  in  the  mirror. 
In  three  days  her  mere  presence  had  made  the  room  marvel- 
lous. 

Recovering  himself,  he  hastened  to  the  closet,  got  the 
shawl,  and  went  down  the  stair  three  steps  at  a  time. 

"  Couldn't  you  find  it.  Alec  ?  "  said  Kate. 

"  Oh !  yes  ;  I  found  it  at  once,"  answered  Alec,  blushing 
to  the  eyes. 

I  wonder  whether  Kate  guessed  what  made  the  boy  blush. 
But  it  does  not  matter  much  now.  She  did  look  curiously 
at  him  for  a  moment. 

"  Just  help  me  with  my  shawl,"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  L. 


During  all  this  time,  Annie  had  seen  scarcely  anything 
of  her  aunt  Margaret  Anderson.  Ever  since  Bruce  had 
oiFended  her,  on  the  occasion  of  her  first  visit,  she  had  taken 
her  custom  elsewhere,  and  had  never  even  called  to  see  her 
niece.  Annie  had  met  her  several  times  in  the  street,  and 
that  was  all.  Hence,  on  one  of  the  fine  afternoons  of  that 
unusually  fine  summer,  and  partly,  perhaps,  from  missing  the 
kindness  of  Mrs  Forbes,  Annie  took  a  longing  to  see  her  old 
aunt,  and  set  out  for  Clippenstrae  to  visit  her.  It  was  a 
walk  of  two  miles,  chiefly  along  the  high  road,  bordered  in 
part  by  accessible  plantation.  Through  this  she  loitered 
along,  enjoying  the  few  wild  fiowers  and  the  many  lights  and 
shadows,  so  that  it  was  almost  evening  before  she  reached 
her  destination. 

"  Preserve  's  a' !  Annie  Anderson,  what  brings  ye  here 
this  time  o'  nicht  ?  "  exclaimed  her  aunt. 

"  It's  a  lang  time  sin  I  saw  ye,  auntie,  and  I  wantit  to 
see  ye." 

"  Weel,  come  butt  the  hoose.  Te're  growin'  a  great 
muckle  quean,"  said  her  aunt,  inclined  to  a  favourable  con- 
sidc'i-ation  of  her  by  her  growth. 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  223 

Margaret  "  didna  like  bairns — menseless  craturs — aye 
wantiu'  ither  fowk  to  do  for  them  !  "  But  growth  was  a  kind 
of  regenerating  process  in  her  eyes,  and  when  a  girl  began  to 
look  like  a  woman,  she  regarded  it  as  an  outward  sign  of  con- 
version, or  something  equally  valuable.- — So  she  conducted 
her  into  the  presence  of  her  uncle,  a  little  old  man,  worn  and 
bent,  with  gray  locks  peeping  out  from  under  a  Highland 
bonnet. 

"  This  is  my  brither  Jeames's  bairn,"  she  said. 

The  old  man  received  her  kindly,  called  her  his  dawtie, 
and  made  her  sit  down  by  him  on  a  three-legged  creepie,  talk- 
ing to  her  as  if  she  had  been  quite  a  child,  while  she,  capable 
of  high  converse  as  she  was,  replied  in  corresponding  terms. 
Her  great-aunt  was  confined  to  her  bed  with  rheumatism. 
Supper  was  preparing,  and  Annie  was  not  sorry  to  have  a 
share,  for  indeed,  during  the  summer,  her  meals  were  often 
scanty  enough.  While  they  ate,  the  old  man  kept  helping 
her  to  the  best,  talking  to  her  all  the  time. 

"Will  ye  no  come  and  bide  wi'  me,  dawtie?"  he  said, 
meaning  little  by  the  question. 

"  Na,  na,"  answered  Margaret  for  her.  "  She's  at  the 
schule,  ye  ken,  uncle,  and  we  maunna  interfere  wi'  her 
schoolin.' — Hoo  does  that  leein'  ted,  Robert  Bruce,  carry 
himsel'  to  ye,  bairn  ?  " 

"  0\v  !  I  jist  never  min'  him,"  answered  Annie. 

"  Weel,  it'p  a'  he  deserves  at  your  han'.  But  gin  I  war 
you,  I  wad  let  him  ken  that  gin  he  saws  your  corn  ye  hae  a 
richt  to  raither  mair  nor  his  gleanins." 

"1  dinna  ken  what  ye  mean,"  answered  Annie. 

"  Ow  !  na ;  I  daursay  no.  But  ye  may  jist  as  weel  ken 
noo,  that  that  ted,  Robert  Bruce,  has  twa  hunner  poun'  odd 
o'  yer  ain,  lassie ;  and  gin  he  doesna  use  ye  weel,  ye  can  jist 
tell  him  'at  I  telt  ye  sae." 

This  ])iece  of  news  had  not  the  overpowering  effect  upon 
Annie  which,  perhaps,  her  aunt  had  expected.  No  doubt 
the  money  seemed  in  her  eyes  a  limitless  fortune ;  but  then 
Bruce  had  it.  She  might  as  soon  think  of  robbing  a  bear  of 
her  whelps  as  getting  her  own  from  Bruce.  Besides,  what 
could  she  do  with  it  if  she  had  it?  And  she  had  not  yet 
acquired  the  faculty  of  loving  money  for  its  own  sake.  When 
she  rose  to  take  her  leave,  she  felt  little  richer  than  when  she 
entered,  save  for  the  kind  words  of  John  Peterson. 

"  It's  ower  late  for  ye  to  gang  harae  yer  lane,  dawtie," 
said  the  old  man. 

"  I'm  nae  that  fleyt,"  answered  Annie. 


224  ALEC   rOKBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Weel,  gin  ye  walk  wi'  Him,  the  mirk'll  be  lichtaboot  ye," 
said  he,  taking  off  his  Highland  bonnet,  and  looking  up  with 
a  silent  recognition  of  the  care  of  Him.  "  Be  a  gude  lass," 
he  resumed,  replacing  his  bonnet,  "  an'  rin  hame  as  fest's  ye 
can.      Gude  nicht  to  ye,  dawtie." 

Eejoicing  as  if  she  had  found  her  long-lost  home,  Annie 
Avent  out  into  the  deep  gloamin  feeling  it  impossible  she 
should  be  frightened  at  anything.  But  when  she  came  to 
the  part  of  the  road  bordered  with  trees,  she  could  not  help 
fancying  she  saw  a  figure  flitting  along  from  tree  to  tree  just 
within  the  deeper  dusk  of  the  wood,  and  as  she  hurried  on, 
fancy  grew  to  fear.  Presently  she  heard  awful  sounds,  like 
the  subdued  growding  of  wild  beasts.  She  would  have  taken 
to  her  heels  in  terror,  but  she  reflected  that  thereby  she 
would  only  insure  pursuit,  whereas  she  might  sli'p  away  un- 
perceived.  As  she  reached  a  stile  leading  into  the  wood,  how- 
ever, a  dusky  figure  came  bounding  over  it,  and  advanced 
towards  her.  To  her  relief  it  went  on  two  legs  ;  and  wdien 
it  came  nearer  she  thought  she  recognized  some  traits  of  old 
acquaintance  about  it.  When  it  was  within  a  couple  of  yards 
of  lier,  as  she  still  pursued  her  way  towards  Glamerton,  she 
stopped  and  cried  out  joyfully  : 

"  Curly  !  "-^for  it  was  her  old  vice-champion. 

"  Annie  !  "  was  the  equally  joyful  response. 

"  I  thocht  ye  was  a  wild  beast !  "  said  Annie. 

" I  was  only  growlin'  for  fun  to  mysel',"  answered  Curly, 
who  would  have  done  it  all  the  more  if  he  had  known  there  was 
any  one  on  the  road.  "  I  didna  ken  'at  I  was  fleggin'  onybody. 
Aa'  hoo  are  ye,  Annie  ?     An'  hoo's  Blister  Bruce  ?  " 

For  Curly  was  dreadfully  prolific  in  nicknames. 

Annie  had  not  seen  him  for  six  mouths.  He  had  continued 
to  show  himself  so  full  of  mischief,  though  of  a  comparatively 
innocent  sort,  that  his  father  thought  it  better  at  last  to  send 
him  to  a  town  at  some  distance  to  learn  the  trade  of  a  saddler, 
for  which  he  had  show^n  a  preference. 

This  was  his  first  visit  to  his  home.  Hitherto  his  fother 
had  received  no  complaints  of  his  behaviour,  and  had  now^ 
begged  a  holiday. 

"  Ye're  grown  sair,  Annie,"  he  said. 

"  Sae  are  ye.  Curly,"  answered  Annie. 

"An'  hoo's  Alec  ?"" 

"  He's  verra  weel." 

Whereupon  much  talk  follow^ed,  which  need  not  be  recorded. 
At  length  Curly  said  : 

"  And  hoo's  the  rottans  ?  " 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  225 

"  Ower  weel  and  thrivin'." 

"  Jist  pit  yer  ban'  i'  my  coat-pooch,  and  see  what  I  hae 
broucht  ye." 

Knowing  Curly' s  propensities,  Annie  refused. 

"  It's  a  wild  beast,"  said  Curly.  "  I'll  lat  it  oot  upo'  ye.  It 
was  it  'at  made  a'  that  roarin'  i'  the  plantin'." 

So  saying,  he  pulled  out  of  his  pocket  the  most  delicate  tor- 
toiseshell  kitten,  not  half  the  beauty  of  which  could  be  perceived 
in  the  gloamiu,  which  is  all  the  northern  summer  night.  He 
threw  it  at  Annie,  but  she  had  seen  enough  not  to  be  afraid  to 
catch  it  in  her  hands. 

"  Did  ye  fess  this  a'  the  road  frae  Spinnie  to  me.  Curly  ?  " 

"  Ay  did  I,  Annie.  Te  see  I  dinna  like  rottans.  But  ye 
maun  haud~  it  oot  o'  their  gait  for  a  feow  weeks,  or  they'll 
rive't  a'  to  bits.  It'll  suue  be  a  match  for  them  though,  I  s'  war- 
ran'.     She  comes  o'  a  killin'  breed." 

Annie  took  the  kitten  home,  and  it  shared  her  bed  that 
night. 

"  What's  that  meowliu  ?  "  asked  Bruce  the  next  morning, 
the  moment  he  rose  from  the  genuflexion  of  morning  prayers. 

"  It's  my  kittlin',"  answered  Annie.     "  I'll  lat  ye  see't." 

"  We  hae  ower  mony  mou's  i'  the  hoose  already,"  said 
Bruce,  as  she  returned  with  the  little  peering  baby-animal  in 
her  arms.  "  We  hae  nae  room  for  mair.  Here,  Rob,  tak  the 
cratur,  an'  pit  a  tow  aboot  its  neck,  an'  a  stane  to  the  tow,  an' 
fling't  into  the  Glamour." 

Annie,  not  waiting  to  parley,  darted  from  the  house  with 
the  kitten. 

"  Ein  efter  her,  Eob,"  said  Bruce,  "  an'  tak'  it  frae  her,  and 
droon't.       We  canna  hae  the  hoose  swarmin'." 

Eob  bolted  after  her,  delighted  with  his  commission.  But 
instead  of  finding  her  at  the  door,  as  he  had  expected,  he  saw 
her  already  a  long  way  up  the  street,  flying  like  the  wind.  He 
started  iu  keen  pursuit.  He  was  now  a  great  lumbering  boy, 
and  although  Aunie's  wind  was  not  equal  to  his,  she  was  more 
fleet.  She  took  the  direct  road  to  Howglen,  and  Eob  kept 
floundering  after  her.  Before  she  reached  the  footbridge  she 
was  nearly  breathless,  and  lie  was  gaining  fast  upon  her.  Just 
as  she  turned  the  corner  of  the  road,  leading  up  on  the  other 
side  of  the  water,  she  met  Alec  and  Kate.  Unable  to  speak, 
she  passed  without  appeal.  But  there  was  no  need  to  ask  the 
cause  of  her  pale  agonized  face,  for  there  was  young  Bruce  at 
her  heels.     Alec  collared  him  instantly. 

"  What  are  you  up  to  ?  "  he  asked. 

""Naething,"  answered  the  panting  pursuer. 
15 


226  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

"  Gm  ye  be  efter  naething,  ye'll  fin'  that  nearer  hame," 
retorted  Alec,  twisting  him  round  in  that  direction,  and  giving 
him  a  kick  to  expedite  his  return.  "  Lat  me  hear  o'  you 
troublin'  Annie  Anderson,  an'  I'll  gar  ye  loup  oot  o'  yer  skin 
the  neist  time  I  lay  han's  upo'  ye.     Gang  harae." 

Eob  obeyed  like  a  frightened  dog,  while  Annie  pursued  her 
course  to  Howglen,  as  if  her  enemy  had  been  still  on  her  track. 
Hushing  into  the  parlour,  she  fell  on  the  floor  before  Mrs 
Forbes,  unable  to  utter  a  word.  The  kitten  sprung  mewing  out 
of  her  arms,  and  took  refuge  under  the  sofa. 

"  Mem,  mem,"  she  gasped  at  length,  "  tak'  care  o'  my 
kittlin'.  They  want  to  droon't.  It's  my  ain.  Curly  gied  it 
to  me." 

Mrs  Forbes  comforted  her,  and  readily  undertook  the 
tutelage.  Annie  was  very  late  for  school,  for  Mrs  Forbes  made 
her  have  another  breakfast  before  she  went.  But  Mr  Malison 
was  in  a  good  humour  that  day,  and  said  nothing.  Eob  Bruce 
looked  devils  at  her.  What  he  had  told  his  father  I  do  not 
know  ;  but  whatever  it  was,  it  was  all  written  down  in  Bruce' s 
mental  books  to  the  debit  of  Alexander  Forbes  of  Howglen. 

Mrs  Forbes's  heart  smote  her  when  she  found  to  what  per- 
secution her  little  friend  was  exposed  during  those  times  when 
her  favour  was  practically  although  not  really  withdrawn  ;  but 
she  did  not  see  how  she  could  well  remedy  it.  She  was  herself  in 
the  power  of  Bruce,  and  expostulation  from  her  would  be  worth 
little ;  while  to  have  Annie  to  the  house  as  before  would  in- 
volve consequences  unpleasant  to  all  concerned.  She  resolved 
to  make  up  for  it  by  being  kinder  to  her  than  ever  as  soon  as 
Alec  should  have  followed  Kate  to  the  precincts  of  the  univers- 
ity ;  while  for  the  present  she  comforted  both  herself  and 
Annie  by  telling  her  to  be  sure  to  come  to  her  when  she  found 
herself  in  any  trouble. 

But  Annie  was  not  one  to  apply  to  her  friends  except  she 
was  in  great  need  of  their  help.  The  present  case  had  been 
one  of  life  and  death.  She  found  no  further  occasion  to  visit 
Mrs  Forbes  before  Kate  and  Alec  were  both  gone. 


CHAPTEE  LI. 


On  a  sleepy  summer  afternoon,  just  when  the  sunshine 
begins  to  turn  yellow,  Annie  was  sitting  with  Tibbie  on  the  grass 
in  iront  of  her  little  cottage,  whose  door  looked  up  the  river. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  227 

The  cottage  stood  on  a  small  rocky  eminence  at  the  foot  of  the 
bridge.  Underneath  the  approach  to  it  from  the  bridge,  the 
dyer's  mill-race  ran  by  a  passage  cut  in  the  rock,  leading  to  the 
third  arch  of  the  bridge  built  over  the  Glamour.  Towards  the 
river,  the  rock  went  down  steep  to  the  little  meadow.  It  was 
a  triangular  piece  of  smooth  grass  growing  on  the  old  bed  of 
the  river^,  which  for  many  years  had  been  leaving  this  side,  and 
wearing  away  the  opposite  bank.  It  lay  between  the  river,  the 
dyer's  race,  and  the  bridge,  one  of  the  stone  piers  of  which  rose 
from  it.  The  grass  which  grew  upon  it  was  short,  thick,  and 
delicate.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  lay  a  field  for 
bleaching  the  linen,  which  was  the  chief  manufacture  of  that 
country.  Hence  it  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  immunity  from 
the  ploughshare.  None  of  its  daisies  ever  met  the  fate  of 
Burns's 

"Wee,  modest,  crimson-tippit  flower." 

But  indeed  so  constantly  was  the  grass  mown  to  keep  it  short, 
that  there  was  scarcely  a  daisy  to  be  seen  in  it,  the  long  broad 
lines  of  white  linen  usurping  their  place,  and  in  their  stead 
keeping  up  the  contrast  of  white  and  green.  Around  Tibbie 
and  Annie  however  the  daisies  were  shining  back  to  the  sun, 
confidently,  with  their  hearts  of  gold  and  their  rays  of  silver. 
And  the  butter-cups  were  all  of  gold  ;  and  the  queen-of-the- 
meadow,  which  grew  tall  at  the  water-side,  perfumed  the  whole 
region  with  her  crown  of  silvery  blossom.  Tibbie's  blind  face 
was  turned  towards  the  sun ;  ai.d  her  hands  were  busy  as  ants 
with  her  knitting  needles,  for  she  was  making  a  pair  oV  worsted 
stockings  for  Annie  against  the  winter.  No  one  could  fit 
stockings  so  well  as  Tibbie. 

"  Wha's  that  comin',  lassie  ?  "  she  asked. 

Annie,  who  bad  heard  no  one,  glanced  round,  and,  x-ising, 
said, 

"  It's  Thomas  Crann." 

"That's  no  Thomas  Crann,"  rejoined  Tibbie.  "I  dinna 
hear  the  host  (cough)  o'  'im." 

Thomas  came  up,  pale  and  limping  a  little. 

"  That's  no  Thomas  Crann?"  repeated  Tibbie,  before  he 
had  time  to  address  her. 

"  What  for  no,  Tibbie  ?  "  returned  Thomas. 

"  'Cause  I  canna  hear  yer  breath,  Thamas." 

"That's  a  sign  that  I  hae  the  mair  o'  't,  Tibbie.  I'm  sae 
muckle  better  o'  that  ashma,  that  I  think  whiles  the  Lord  maun 
hae  blawn  into  my  nostrils  anither  breath  o'  that  life  that  he 
breathed  first  into  Edam  an'  Eve." 


228  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  I'm  richt  glaid  to  liear't,  Thamas.  Breath  maun  come 
frae  him  ae  gait  or  ither." 

"Nae  doobt,  Tibbie." 

"  Will  ye  sit  doon asides's, Thamas ?  It'slang  sin'  I hae  seenye." 

Tibbie  always  spoke  of  seeiiuj  people. 

"  Ay  will  1,  Tibbie.  I  haena  muckle  upo'  my  ban's  jist  the 
day.     Te  see  I  haena  won  richt  into  my  wark  again  yet." 

"Annie  an'  me's  jist  been  haeing  a  crack  thegither  aboot 
this  thing  an'  that  thing,  Thamas,"  said  Tibbie,  dropping  her  knit- 
ting on  her  knees,  and  folding  her  palms  together.  "  Maybe 
ye  could  tell  me  whether  there  be  ony  likeness  atween  the  licht 
that  I  canna  see  and  that  soun'  o'  the  water  rinnin',  aye 
rinnin',  that  I  like  sae  weel  to  hear." 

Eor  it  did  not  need  the  gentle  warm  wind,  floating  rather 
than  blowing  down  the  river  that  afternoon,  to  bring  to  their 
ears  the  sound  of  the  entick,  or  dam  built  across  the  river,  to 
send  the  water  to  the  dyer's  wheel  ;  for  that  sound  was  iu 
Tibbie's  cottage  day  and  night,  mingled  with  the  nearer,  gentler, 
and  stronger  gurgling  of  the  swift,  deep,  deedie  water  in  the 
race,  that  hurried,  aware  of  its  work,  with  small  noise  and 
much  soft-sliding  force  towards  the  wheel. 

"  Weel,  ye  see,  Tibbie,"  answered  Thomas,  "  it's  nearhan' 
as  ill  for  the  like  o'  us  to  unnerstan'  your  blin'ness  as  it  may 
be  for  you  to  unnerstan'  oor  sicht." 

"  Deed  maybe  neyther  o'  's  kens  muckle  aboot  oor  ain  gift  \y^ 
either  o'  sicht  or  blin'ness — Say  onything  ye  like,  gin  ye  dinna 
tell  me,  as  the  bairn  here  ance  did,  that  1  cndna  ken  what  the 
licht  was.     I  kenna  what  yer  siclit  may  be,  and  I'm  thiukin' 
I  care  as  little.     But  weel  ken  I  what  the  licht  is." 

"  Tibbie,  dinna  be  ill-nater'd,  like  me.  Te  hae  no  call  to 
that  same.  I'm  tryin'  to  answer  your  queston.  And  gin  ye 
interrup'  me  again,  I'll  rise  an'  gang  hame." 

"  Say  awa',  Thamas.  Never  lieed  me.  I'm  some  caakert 
whiles.     I  ken  that  weel  eneuch." 

"  Ye  hae  nae  business  to  be  cankert,  Tibbie  ?  " 

"  Nae  mair  nor  ither  fowk." 

"  Less,  Tibbie  ;  less,  woman." 

"  Hoo  niak'  ye  that  oot  ?  "  asked  Tibbie,  defensively. 

"  Ye  dinna  see  the  things  to  anger  ye  that  ither  fowk 
sees. — As  I  cam'  doon  tlie  street  this  minute,  I  cam'  upo'  twa 
laddies — ye  ken  them — they're  twins — ane  o'  them  cripple — " 

"Ay,  that  was  Murdoch  Malison's  wark!"  interposed 
Tibbie,  with  indignant  reminiscence. 

"The  man's  been  sorry  for't  this  mony  a  day."  said 
Thomas  ;  "  sae  we  maunna  come  ower't  again,  Tibbie." 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  229 

"  Yerra  weel,  Thamas  ;  1  s'  baud  my  tongue.  What  about 
the  laddies  ?  " 

"  They  war  fechtin'  i'  the  verra  street ;  ruggin'  ane  anitber's 
beids,  au'  peggin'  at  ane  anitber's  noses,  an'  doin'  their  verra 
endeevour  to  destroy  the  image  o'  the  Almichty — it  wasna 
niuckle  o'  't  that  was  left  to  blaud.  I  teuk  and  tbroosh  them 
baitb." 

"  An'  what  cam'  o'  the  image  o'  the  Almichty  ?  "  asked 
Tibbie,  with  a  grotesque  contortion  of  her  mouth,  and  a  roll  of 
her  veiled  eyeballs.  "  I  doobt,  Thamas,"  she  continued,  "  ye 
augert  yersel'  mair  nor  ye  quaietit  them  wi'  the  thrasbin'.  The 
wrath  o'  man,  ye  ken,  Thamas,  worketh  not  the  richtyisness  o' 
God." 

There  was  not  a  person  in  Grlamerton  who  would  have 
dared  to  speak  thus  to  Thomas  Cranu  but  Tibbie  Dyster,  per- 
haps because  there  was  not  one  who  had  such  a  respect  for 
him.  Possibly  the  darkness  about  her  made  her  bolder;  but  I 
think  it  was  her  truth,  which  is  another  word  for  love,  however 
unlike  love  the  outcome  may  look,  that  made  her  able  to  speak 
in  this  fashion. 

Thomas  was  silent  for  a  long  minute.  Then  he  said : 
"  Maybe  ye're  i'  the  richt,  Tibbie.  Te  aye  anger  me ;  but 
I  wad  raither  hae  a  body  auger  me  wi'  tellin'  me  the  trowth, 
nor  I  wad  hae  a'  the  fair  words  i'  the  dictionar'.  It's  a  strange 
thing,  wuraman,  but  aye  whan  a  body's  tryin'  maist  to  gang 
upricht  he's  sure  to  catch  a  dreidfu'  fa'.  There  I  hae  been 
warstlin'  wi'  my  ill-temper  mair  nor  ever  I  did  i'  my  life  afore  ; 
and  1  never  i'  my  days  lickit  twa  laddies  for  lickin'  ane  anither 
till  jist  this  verra  day.  And  I  prayed  against  mysel'  afore  I 
cam'  oot.     1  cauna  win  at  the  boddom  o'  't." 

"  Tiiere's  waur  things^  nor  an  ill  temper,  Thamas.  No  that 
it's  bonnie  ava'.  And  it's  nana  like  Him  'at  was  meek  and  ■ 
lowly  o'  bert.  But,  as  I  say,  there's  waur  faats  nor  an  ill 
temper.  It  wad  be  no  gain  to  you,  Thamas,  and  no  glory  to 
Him  vvhase  will's  your  ^anctification,  gin  ye  war  to  owercome 
yer  temper,  and  syne  think  a  heap  o'  yersel'  that  ye  had  done't. 
Maybe  tliat's  what  for  yer  no  allooed  to  be  victorious  in  yer 
eudeevours." 

"  'Deed,  maybe,  Tibbie,"  said  Thomas  solemnly.  "  And  I'm 
some  doobtfu'  forbye,  whether  I  mayna  be  tryin'  to  ripe  oot  the 
stockiu'  frae  the  wrang  en'  o'  't.  I  doobt  the  fau't's  nae  sae 
muckle  i'  my  temper  as  i'  my  bert.  It's  mair  love  that  I  want, 
Tibbie.  Gin  I  lo'ed  my  neebor  as  mysel',  I  cudna  be  sae  ill- 
Datert  till  him  ;  though  'deed,  whiles,  I'm  angry  eneuch  at  my- 
sel'— a  hautle  waur  uor  at  him." 


230  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Verra  true,  Thamas,"  answered  Tibbie.  "  Perfect  love' 
casteth  oot  fear,  'cause  there's  nae  room  for  the  twa  o'  them ; 
and  I  daursay  it  wad  be  the  same  wi'  the  temper." 

"  But  I'm  no  gaein'  to  gie  in  to  bein'  ill-natert  for  a'  that," 
said  Tliomas,  as  if  alarmed  at  the  possible  consequences  of  the 
conclusion. 

"  Na,  na.  Eesist  ye  the  deevil,  Thamas.  Haud  at  him, 
man.  He's  sure  to  rin  at  the  lang  last.  But  I'm  feared  yell 
gang  awa'  ohu  tellt  me  aboot  the  licht  and  the  water.  Whan 
I'm  sittin'  here  o'  the  girse,  hearkenin'  to  the  water,  as  it 
comes  murrin',  and  souflfin',  and  gurglin',  on  to  me,  and  syne 
by  me  and  awa',  as  gin  it  war  spinnin'  and  twistin'  a  lot  o' 
bonnie  wee  sonnies  a'  intil  ae  muekle  gran'  soun',  it  pits  me  i' 
min'  o'  the  text  that  says,  '  His  voice  was  as  the  sound  o'  mony 
waters.'  Noo  his  face  is  licht — ye  ken  that,  divna  ye  ? — and 
gin  his  voice  be  like  the  water,  tliere  maun  be  something  like 
atween  the  licht  and  the  water,  ye  ken.  That's  what  garred 
me  spier  at  ye,  Thamas." 

"  Weel,  I  dinna  ken  richtly  boo  to  answer  ye,  Tibbie ;  but 
at  this  moment  the  licht's  playin'  bonnie  upo'  the  entick — 
shimmerin'  and  brakin'  upo'  the  water,  as  hit  bracks  upo'  the 
stanes  afore  it  fa's.  An'  what  fii's,  it  luiks  as  gin  it  took  the 
licht  wi'  't  i'  the  wame  o'  't  like.  Eli !  it's  bonnie,  woman  ; 
and  I  wiss  ye  had  the  eicht  o'  yer  een  to  see't  wi' ;  though  ye 
do  preten'  to  think  little  o'  't." 

"  Weel,  weel !  my  time's  comin',  Thamas ;  and  I  maun  jist 
bide  till  it  comes.  Ye  canna  help  me,  I  see  that.  Gin  I  could 
only  open  my  een  for  ae  minute,  I  wad  ken  a'  aboot  it,  and  be 
able  to  answer  mysel'. — I  think  we  '11  gang  into  the  hoose,  for 
I  canna  bide  it  langer." 

All  the  time  they  were  talking  Annie  was  watching  Alec's 
boat,  which  had  dropped  down  the  river,  and  was  floating  in 
the  sunshine  above  the  dam.  Thomas  must  have  seen  it 
too,  for  it  was  in  the  very  heart  of  the  radiance  reflected 
to  them  from  the  watery  mirror.  But  Alec  was  a  painful 
subject  v/ith  Tliomas,  for  when  they  chanced  to  meet  now, 
nothing  more  than  the  passing  salute  of  ordinary  acquaint- 
ance was  exchanged.  And  Thomas  was  not  able  to  be  indul- 
gent to  young  people.  Certain  facts  in  his  nature,  as  well 
as  certain  articles  in  his  creed,  rendered  him  unable.  So, 
being  one  of  those  who  never  speak  of  what  is  painful  to  them 
if  they  can  avoid  it — thinking  all  the  more,  he  talked  about 
the  light,  and  said  nothing  about  the  boat  that  was  in  the 
middle  of  it.  Had  Alec  been  rowing,  Tibbie  would  have 
heard  the  oars ;  but  ho  only  paddled  enough  to  keep  the  boat 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  231 

from  drifting  on  to  the  dam.  Kate  sat  in  the  stern  looking 
at  the  water  with  half-closed  eyes,  and  Alec  sat  looking  at 
Kate,  as  if  his  eyes  were  made  only  for  her.  And  Annie  sat 
in  tlie  meadow,  and  she  too  looked'  at  Kate ;  and  she  thought 
how  pretty  she  was,  and  how  she  must  like  being  rowed 
about  in  the  old  boat.  It  seemed  quite  an  old  boat  now.  An 
age  had  passed  since  her  name  was  painted  on  it.  She  won- 
dered if  The  Bonnie  Annie  was  worn  off"  the  stern  yet ;  or  if 
Alec  had  painted  it  out,  and  put  the  name  of  the  pre:ty  lady 
mstead.  When  Tibbie  and  Thomas  walked  away  into  the 
house,  Annie  lingered  behind  on  the  grass. 

The  sun  sank  slanting  and  slow,  yet  he  did  sink,  lower 
and  lower ;  till  at  length  Alec  leaned  back  with  a  stronger 
pull  on  the  oars,  and  the  boat  crept  away  up  the  stream,  less- 
ening as  it  crept,  and,  turning  a  curve  in  the  river,  was  lost. 
Still  she  sat  on,  with  one  hand  lying  listlessly  in  her  lap,  and 
the  other  plucking  blades  of  grass  and  making  a  little  heap 
of  them  beside  her,  till  she  had  pulled  a  spot  quite  bare,  and 
the  brown  earth  peeped  through  between  the  roots.  Then 
she  rose,  went  up  to  the  door  of  the  cottage,  called  a  good 
night  to  Tibbie,  and  took  her  way  home. 


CHAPTER  Lll. 


My  story  has  not  to  do  with  city-life,  in  which  occur  frequent 
shocks,  changes,  and  recombinations,  but  with  the  life  of  a 
country  region;  andis,therefore,"to  alingeringmotionbound," 
like  the  day,  like  the  ripening  of  the  harvest,  like  the  growth 
of  all  good  things.  But  clouds  and  rainbows  will  come  in  the 
quietest  skies ;  adventures  and  coincidences  in  the  quietest 
village. 

As  Kate  and  Alec  walked  along  the  street,  on  their  way 
to  the  castle,  one  of  the  coaches  from  the  county -town  drove 
up  with  its  four  thorough-breds. 

"  \Yhat  a  handsome  fellow  the  driver  is  !  "  said  Kate. 

Alec  looked  up  at  the  bos.  There  sat  Beauchamp,  with 
the  ribbons  in  his  grasp,  handling  his  horses  with  composure 
and  skill.  Beside  him  sat  the  owner  of  the  coach,  a  laird  of 
the  neighbourhood. 

Certainly  Beauchamp  was  a  handsome  fellow.  But  a 
sting  went  through  Alec's,  heart.     It  was  the  first  time  that 


232  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

he  tlaouglit  of  Tiis  own  person  in  comparison  witli  another. 
That  she  should  admire  Beauchamp,  though  he  was  handsome  ! 
The  memory  even  of  that  moment  made  him  writhe  on 
his  bed  years  after ;  for  a  mental  and  bodily  wound  are  alike 
in  this,  that  after  there  is  but  the  scar  of  either  left,  bad 
weather  will  revive  the  torture.  His  face  fell.  Kate  saw  it, 
and  did  him  some  injustice.  They  walked  on  in  silence,  in 
the  shadow  of  a  high  wall.  Kate  looked  up  at  the  top  of 
the  wall  and  stopped.  Alec  looked  at  her.  Her  face  was  as 
full  of  light  as  a  diamond  in  the  sun.  He  forgot  all  his 
jealousy.  The  fresh  tide  of  his  love  swept  it  away,  or  at  least 
covered  it.  On  the  top  of  the  wall,  in  the  sun,  grew  one  wild 
scarlet  poppy,  a  delicate  transparent  glory,  through  which 
the  sunlight  shone,  staining  itself  red,  and  almost  dissolving 
the  poppy. 

The  red  light  melted  away  the  mist  between  them,  and 
they  walked  in  it  up  to  the  ruined  walls.  Long  grass  grew 
about  them,  close  to  the  very  door,  which  was  locked,  that  if 
"old  Time  could  not  be  kept  out,  younger  destroyers  might. 
Other  walls  stood  around,  vitrified  by  iire — the  remnants  of 
an  older  castle  still,  about  which  Jamblichus  might  have  spied 
the  lingering  phantoms  of  many  a  terrible  deed. 

They  entered  by  the  door  in  the  great  tower,  under  the 
spiky  remnants  of  the  spiral  stair  projecting  from  the  huge 
circular  wall.  To  the  right,  a  steep  descent,  once  a  stair,  led 
down  to  the  cellars  and  the  dungeon ;  a  terrible  place,  the 
visible  negations  of  which  are  horrid,  and  need  no  popular  le- 
gends such  as  Alec  had  been  telling  Kate,  of  a  walled-up  door 
and  a  lost  room,  to  add  to  their  influence.  It  was  no  wonder 
that  when  he  held  out  his  hand  to  lead  her  down  into  the 
darkness  and  through  winding  ways  to  the  mouth  of  the  far- 
off  beehive  dungeon — it  was  no  wonder,  I  say,  that  she  should 
shrink  and  draw  back.  A  few  rays  came  through  the  de- 
cayed planks  of  the  door  which  Alec  had  pushed  to  behind 
them,  and  fell  upon  the  rubbish  of  centuries  sloping  in  the 
brown  light  and  damp  air  down  into  the  abyss.  One  larger 
ray  from  the  keyhole  fell  upon  Kate's  face,  and  showed  it 
blanched  with  fear,  and  her  eyes  distended  with  the  effort 
to  see  through  the  gloom. 

At  that  moment,  a  sweet,  low  voice  came  from  somewhere, 
out  of  the  darkness,  saying : 

"  Dinna  be  feared,  mem,  to  gang  whaur  Alec  wants  ye  to 
gang.     Ye  can  lippen  {trust)  to  hiiny 

Staring  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  Kate  saw  the  pale 
face  of  a  slender — half  child,  half  maiden,  glimmering  across 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  23'3 

the  gulf  that  led  to  the  dungeon.  She  stood  in  the  midst  of 
a  sepulchral  light,  whose  faiutness  differed  from  mere  obscur- 
ation, inasmuch  as  it  told  how  bright  it  was  out  of  doors  in 
the  sun.  Annie,  I  say,  stood  in  this  dimness — a  dusky  and 
yet  radiant  creature,  seeming  to  throw  off  from  her  a  faint 
brown  light — a  lovely,  earth-stained  ghost. 

"  Oh  !  Annie,  is  that  you  ?  "  said  Alec. 

"Ay  is't.  Alec,"  Annie  answered. 

"  This  is  an  old  schoolfellow  of  mine,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Kate,  who  was  looking  haughtily  at  the  girl. 

"  Oh  !  is  it  ?  "  said  Kate,  condescending. 

Between  the  two,  each  looking  ghostly  to  the  other,  lay 
a  dark  cavern-mouth  that  seemed  to  go  down  to  Hades. 

"  Wonna  ye  gang  doon,  mem  ?  "  said  Annie. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  answered  Kate,  decisively. 

"Alec'll  tak'  guid  care  o'  ye,  mem." 

*'  Oh  !  yes,  I  daresay  ;  but  I  had  rather  not." 

Alee  said  nothing.  Kate  would  not  trust  him  then  !  He 
would  not  have  thought  much  of  it,  however,  but  for  what  had 
passed  before.  Would  she  have  gone  with  Beauchamp  if  he 
had  asked  her?  Ah!  if  he  had  asked  Annie,  she  too  would 
have  turned  pale,  but  she  would  have  laid  her  hand  in  his, 
and  gone  with  him. 

"  Gin  ye  want  to  gang  up,  than,"  she  said,  "  I'll  lat  ye  see 
the  easiest  road.     It's  roun'  this  way." 

And  she  pointed  to  a  narrow  ledge  between  the  descent 
and  the  circular  wall,  by  which  they  could  cross  to  where  she 
stood.  But  Alec,  who  had  no  desire  for  Annie's  company, 
declined  her  guidance,  and  took  Kate  up  a  nearer  though 
more  difficult  ascent  to  the  higher  level.  Here  all  the  floors 
of  the  castle  lay  in  dust  beneath  their  feet,  mingled  with 
fragments  of  chimney-piece  and  battlement.  The  whole 
central  space  lay  open  to  the  sky. 

Annie  remained  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  dungeon-slope. 

She  had  been  on  her  way  to  see  Tibbie,  when  she  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Kate  and  Alec  as  they  passed.  Since  watching 
them  in  the  boat  the  evening  before,  she  had  been  longing  to 
speak  to  Alec,  longing  to  see  Kate  nearer :  perhaps  the  beau- 
tiful lady  would  let  her  love  her.  She  guessed  where  they 
were  going,  and  across  the  fields  she  bounded  like  a  fawn, 
straight  as  the  crows  flew  home  to  the  precincts  of  that 
"ancient  rest,"  and  reached  it  before  them.  She  did  not 
need  to  fetch  the  key,  for  she  knew  a  hole  on  the  level  of  the 
grass,  wide  enough  to  let  her  creep  through  the  two  yards  of 
wall.     So  she  crept  iu  and  took  her  place  near  the  door. 


234  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGI.EN. 

After  they  had  rambled  over  the  lower  part  of  the  building, 
Alee  took  Kate  up  a  small  winding  stair,  past  a  succession  of 
empty  doorways  like  eyeless  sockets,  leading  nowhither  because 
the  floors  had  fallen.  Kate  was  so  frightened  by  coming  sud- 
denly upon  one  after  another  of  these  defenceless  openings, 
that  by  the  time  she  reached  the  broad  platform,  which  ran,  all 
bare  of  parapet  or  battlement,  around  the  top  of  the  tower,  she 
felt  faint ;  and  when  Alec  scampered  oft'  like  a  goat  to  reach  the 
bartizan  at  the  other  side,  she  sank  in  an  agony  of  fear  upon  the 
landing  of  the  stair. 

Looking  down  upon  her  from  the  top  of  the  little  turret, 
Alec  saw  that  she  was  ill,  and  returning  instantly  in  great  dis- 
may, comforted  her  as  well  as  he  could,  and  got  her  by  degrees 
to  the  bottom.  There  was  a  spot  of  grass  inside  the  walls,  on 
which  he  made  her  rest ;  and  as  the  sun  shone  upon  her  through 
one  of  the  ruined  windows,  he  stood  so  that  his  shadow  should 
fall  across  her  eyes.  While  he  stood  thus  a  strange  fancy 
seized  him.  The  sun  became  in  his  eyes  a  fiery  dragon,  which 
having  devoured  half  of  the  building,  having  eaten  the  inside 
out  of  it,  having  torn  and  gnawed  it  everywhere,  and  having  at 
length  reached  its  kernel,  the  sleeping  beauty,  whose  bed  had, 
in  the  long  years,  mouldered  away,  and  been  replaced  by  the 
living  grass,  would  swallow  her  up  anon,  if  he  were  not  there 
to  stand  between  and  defend  her.  When  he  looked  at  her 
next,  she  had  indeed  become  the  sleeping  beauty  he  had 
fancied  her ;  and  sleep  had  already  restored  the  colour  to  her 
cheeks. 

Turning  his  eyes  up  to  the  tower  from  which  they  had  just 
descended,  he  saw,  looking  down  upon  them  from  one  of  the 
isolated  doorways,  the  pale  face  of  Patrick  Beauchamp.  Alec 
bounded  to  the  stair,  rushed  to  the  top  and  round  the  platform, 
but  found  nobody.  Beginning  to  doubt  his  eyes,  his  next  glance 
showed  him  Beauchamp  standing  over  the  sleeping  girl.  He 
darted  down  the  screw  of  the  stair,  but  when  he  reached  the 
bottom  Beauchamp  had  again  disappeared. 

The  same  moment  Kate  began  to  wake.  Her  first  move- 
ment brought  Alec  to  his  senses  :  why  should  he  follow  Beau* 
champ  ?  He  returned  to  her  side,  and  they  left  the  place, 
locked  the  door  behind  them,  took  the  key  to  the  lodge,  and 
went  home. 

After  tea.  Alec,  believing  he  had  locked  Beauchamp  into  the 
castle,  returned  and  searched  the  building  from  top  to  bottom, 
even  got  a  candle  and  a  ladder,  and  went  down  into  the  dungeon, 
found  no  one,  and  went  home  bewildered. 

While  Alec  was  searching  tlie  vacant  ruin,  Beauchamp  was 


AT.Kt    FORBES    OF    HOWULEN.  235 

comfortably  seated  on  the  box  of  the  Spitfire,  tooling  it  half- 
way home — namely,  as  far  as  the  house  of  its  owner,  the  laird 
above  mentioned,  who  was  a  relative  of  his  mother,  and  whom 
he  was  then  visiting.  He  had  seen  Kate  and  Alec  take  the  way 
to  the  castle,  and  had  followed  them,  and  found  the  door  un- 
locked. AYatching  them  about  the  place,  he  ascended  the  stair 
from  another  approach.  The  moment  Alec  looked  up  at  him, 
he  ran  down  again,  and  had  just  dropped  into  a  sort  of  well-like 
place  which  the  stair  had  used  to  fill  on  its  way  to  a  lower 
level,  when  he  heard  Alec's  feet  thundering  up  over  his  head. 
Determined  then  to  see  what  the  lady  was  like,  for  he  had  never 
seen  her  close,  or  without  her  bonnet,  which  now  lay  beside  her 
on  the  grass,  he  scrambled  out,  and,  approaching  her  cautiously, 
had  a  few  moments  to  contemplate  her  before  he  saw — for  he 
kept  a  watch  on  the  tower — that  Alec  had  again  caught  sight 
of  hiui,  when  he  immediately  fled  to  his  former  refuge,  which 
eominvuiicated  with  a  low-pitched  story  lying  between  the  open 
level  and  the  vaults. 

The  sound  of  the  ponderous  and  rusty  bolt  reached  him 
across  the  cavernous  space.  He  had  not  expected  their  imme- 
diate departure,  and  was  rather  alarmed.  His  first  impulse  was 
to  try  whether  he  could  not  shoot  the  bolt  from  the  inside. 
This  he  soon  found  to  be  impossible.  He  next  turned  to  the 
windows  in  the  front,  but  there  the  ground  fell  away  so  sud- 
denly that  he  was  many  feet  from  it — an  altogether  dangerous 
leap.  He  was  beginning  to  feel  seriously  concerned,  when  he 
heard  a  voice  : 

"  Do  ye  want  to  win  oot,  sir  ?  They  hae  lockit  the 
door." 

He  turned  but  could  see  no  one.  Approaching  the  door 
again,  he  spied  Annie,  in  the  dark  twilight,  standing  on  the  edge 
of  the  descent  to  the  vaults.  He  had  passed  the  spot  not  a 
minute  before,  and  she  was  certainly  not  there  then.  She 
looked  as  if  she  had  just  glided  up  that  slope  from  a  region  so 
dark  that  a  spectre  might  haunt  it  all  day  long.  But  Beau- 
champ  was  not  of  a  fanciful  disposition,  and  instead  of  taking 
her  for  a  spectre,  he  accosted  her  with  easy  insolence  ! 

"  Tell  me  how  to  get  out,  ray  pretty  girl,  and  I'll  give  you 
a  kiss." 

Seized  with  a  terror  she  did  not  understand,  Annie  darted 
into  the  cavern  between  them,  and  sped  down  its  steep  into  the 
darkness  which  lay  there  like  a  lurking  beast.  A  few  yards 
down,  however,  she  turned  aside,  through  a  low  doorway,  into 
a  vault.  Beauchamp  rushed  after  her,  passed  her,  and  fell  over 
a  great  stone  lying  in  the  middle  of  the  way.     Annie  heard  him 


236  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

fall,  sprung  forth  again,  and,  flying  to  the  upper  light,  found 
her  way  out,  and  left  the  discourteous  knight  a  safe  captive, 
fallen  upon  that  horrible  stair. — A  horrible  stair  it  was  :  up  and 
down  those  steps,  then  steep  and  worn,  now  massed  into  an  in- 
cline of  beaten  earth,  had  swarmed,  for  months  together,  a 
multitude  of  nuked  children,  orphaned  and  captive  by  the  sword, 
to  and  from  the  troughs  at  which  they  fed  like  pigs,  amidst  the 
laughter  of  the  lord  of  the  castle  and  his  guests  ;  while  he  who 
passed  down  them  to  the  dungeon  beyond,  had  little  chance  of 
ever  retracing  his  steps  upward  to  the  light. 

Annie  told  the  keeper  that  there  was  a  gentleman  shut  into 
the  castle,  and  then  ran  a  mile  and  a  half  to  Tibbie's  cottage, 
without  stopping.  But  she  did  not  say  a  word  to  Tibbie  about 
her  adventure. 


CHAPTER  LIIL 


A  SPIRIT  of  prophecy,  whether  from  the  Lord  or  not,  was 
abroad  this  summer  among  the  clergy  of  Glamerton,  of  all 
persuasions.  Nor  was  its  influences  confined  to  Glamerton  or 
the  clergy.  The  neighbourhood  and  the  laity  had  their  sliare. 
Those  who  read  their  Bibles,  of  whom  there  were  many  in  that 
region,  took  to  reading  the  prophecies,  all  the  prophecies,  and 
scarcely  anything  but  the  prophecies.  Upon  these  every  man, 
either  for  himself  or  following  in  the  track  of  his  spiritual  in- 
structor, exercised  his  individual  powers  of  interpretation,  whose 
fecundity  did  not  altogether  depend  upon  the  amount  of  his- 
torical knowledge.  But  whatever  was  known,  whether  about 
ancient  Assyria  or  modern  Tahiti,  found  its  theoretic  place. 
Of  course  the  Church  of  Eome  had  her  due  share  of  the  appli- 
cation from  all  parties  ;  but  neither  the  Church  of  England,  the 
Church  of  Scotland,  nor  either  of  the  dissenting  sects,  went 
without  its  portion  freely  dealt,  each  of  the  last  finding  some- 
thing that  applied  to  all  the  rest.  There  were  some,  however, 
who  cared  less  for  such  modes,  and,  themselves  given  to  a  daily 
fight  with  antichrist  in  their  own  hearts,  sought — for  they  too 
read  the  prophecies — to  fix  their  reference  on  certain  sins,  aud 
certain  persons  classed  according  to  these  their  sins.  "With  a 
burning  desire  for  the  safety  of  their  neighboiu's,  they  took  upon 
them  tlie  strongest  words  of  rebuke  aud  condemnation,  so  that 
one  might  have  thought  they  were  revelling  in  the  idea  of  the 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  237 

vengeance  at  hand,  instead  of  striving  for  tlie  rescue  of  their 
neighbours  from  the  wrath  to  come.  Among  these  were  Thomas 
Crann  and  his  minister,  Mr  TurnbulL  To  them  Glamerton 
was  tlie  centre  of  creation,  providence,  and  revelation.  Every 
warning  finger  in  The  Book  pointed  to  it ;  every  burst  of  indig- 
nation from  the  labouring  bosom  of  holy  prophet  was  addressed 
to  its  sinners.  And  what  the  ministers  spoke  to  classes  from 
the  pulpit,  Thomas,  whose  mode  of  teaching  was  in  so  far  So- 
cratic  that  he  singled  out  his  man,  applied  to  the  individual — 
in  language  occasionally  too  much  to  the  point  to  admit  of  re- 
petition in  the  delicate  ears  of  the  readers  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  some  of  whom  are  on  such  friendly  terms  with  the 
vices  themselves,  that  they  are  shocked  at  the  vulgarity  and 
rudeness  of  the  names  given  them  by  their  forefathers. 

"  Ye  ken  weel  eneuch  that  ye're  a  drucken  vratch,  Peter 
Peterson.  An'  ye  ken  weel  eneuch  that  ye're  nane  better,  for- 
bye,  than  ye  sud  be.  Kaebody  ever  accused  ye  o'  stealin' ; 
but  gin  ye  baud  on  as  ye're  doin',  that'll  come  neist.  But  I 
doobt  the  wrath  o'  the  Almichty'll  be  doon  upo'  's  like  a  spate, 
as  it  was  i'  the  days  o'  Noah,  afore  ye  hae  time  to  learn  to  steal, 
Peter  Peterson.  Te'll  hae  your  share  in  bringin'  destruction 
upo'  this  toon,  and  a'  its  belongin's.  The  verra  kirk-yard 
winna  hide  ye  that  day  frae  the  wrath  o'  liim  that  sitteth  upo' 
the  throne.  Tak'  ye  tent,  and  repent,  Peter ;  or  it'll  be  the 
waur  for  ye." 

The  object  of  this  terrible  denunciation  of  the  wrath  of  the 
Almighty  was  a  wretched  little  object  indeed,  just  like  a  white 
rabbit — with  pink  eyes,  a  grey  face  and  head,  poor  thin  legs,  a 
long  tail-coat  that  came  nearly  to  his  heels,  an  awfully  ragged 
pair  of  trowsers,  and  a  liver  charred  with  whisky.  He  had  kept 
a  whisky-shop  till  he  had  drunk  all  his  own  whisky ;  and  as  no 
distiller  would  let  him  have  any  on  trust,  he  now  hung  about 
the  inn-yard,  and  got  a  penny  from  one,  and  twopence  from 
another,  for  running  errands. — Had  they  been  sovereigns  they 
would  all  have  gone  the  same  way — namely,  for  whisky. 

He  listened  to  Thomas  with  a  kind  of  dazed  meekness,  his 
eyes  wandering  everywhere  except  in  the  direction  of  Thomas's. 
One  who  did  not  know  Thomas  would  have  thought  it  cowardly 
in  him  to  attack  such  a  poor  creature.  But  Thomas  was  just 
as  ready  to  fly  at  the  greatest  man  in  Glamerton.  All  the  evil- 
doers of  the  place  feared  him — tl)e  rich  manufacturer  and  the 
strong  horse-doctor  included.  They  called  him  a  wheezing, 
canting  hypocrite,  and  would  go  streets  out  of  their  way  to 
avoid  him. 

But  on  the  present  occasion  he  went  too  far  with  Peter. 


238  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

"  And  it's  weel  kent  your  dochter  Bauby's  no  better  nor  she 
sud  be ;  for — " 

Peter's  face  flushed  crimson,  though  where  the  blood  could 
have  come  from  was  an  anatomical  mystery  ;  he  held  up  his 
hands  with  the  fingers  crooked  like  the  claws  of  an  animal,  for 
the  poor  creature  had  no  notion  of  striking ;  and,  dancing 
backwards  and  forwards  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and 
grinning  with  set  teeth  in  an  agony  of  impotent  rage,  cried 
out  : 

"  Tam  Crann,  gin  ye  daur  to  say  anither  word  against  my 
Bauby  wi'  that  foul  mou'  o'  yours,  I'll — I'll — I'll — worry  ye  like 
a  mad  dog — ye  ill-tongued  scoonrel !  " 

His  Bawby  had  already  had  two  children — one  to  the  rich 
manufacturei',  the  other  to  the  strong  horse-doctor. 

Thomas  turned  in  silence  and  went  away  rebuked  and 
ashamed.  Next  day  he  sent  Peter  a  pair  of  old.  corduroy 
trowsers,  into  either  leg  of  which  he  might  have  been  buttoned 
like  one  of  Paddy's  twins. 

In  the  midst  of  tins  commotion  of  mind  and  speech,  good 
Mr  Cowie  died.  He  had  taken  no  particular  interest  in  what 
was  going  on,  nor  even  in  the  prophecies  themselves.  Ever 
since  Annie's  petition  for  counsel,  he  had  been  thinking,  as  he 
had  never  thought  before,  about  his  own  relation  to  God  ;  and 
had  found  this  enough  without  the  prophecies.  Now  he  had 
carried  his  thoughts  into  another  world.  While  Thomas  Crann 
was  bending  his  spiritual  artillery  upon  the  poor  crazy  tub  in 
which  floated  the  earthly  presence  of  Peter  Peterson,  Mr  Cowie's 
bark  was  lying  stranded  upon  that  shore  whither  the  tide  of  time 
is  slowly  drifting  each  of  us. 

He  was  gently  regretted  by  all — even  by  Thomas. 

"  Ay  !  ay  !  "  he  said,  with  slow  emphasis,  '  long  drawn  out '; 
"  he's  gane,  is  he,  honest  man  ?  Weei,  maybe  he  had  the  root 
o'  the  maitter  in  him,  althongh  it  made  unco  little  show  aboon 
the  yird.  There  was  sma'  flower  and  less  fruit.  But  jeedgmeut 
disna  belang  to  us,  ye  see,  Jean,  lass." 

Thomas  would  judge  the  living  from  morning  to  night ;  but 
the  dead — he  would  leave  them  alone  in  the  better  hands. 

"  I'm  thinkin',"  he  added,  "  he's  been  taen  awa'  frae  the 
evil  to  come — frae  seein'  the  terrible  consequences  o'  sic  a  saft 
way  o'  dealin'  wi'  eternal  trowth  and  wi'  perishin'  men — taen 
awa'  like  Eli,  whan  he  brak  his  neck  at  the  ill  news.  For 
the  fire  and  brimstane  that  overthrew  Sodom  and  G-omorrha, 
is,  I  doobt,  hingin'  ower  this  toon,  ready  to  fa'  and  smore 
us  a'." 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  239 

"  Hoot !  hoot !  dinna  speyk  sic  awfu'  words,  Thamas.  Te're 
nae  the  prophet  Jonah,  ye  ken." 

"  Are  ye  the  whaul  than,  to  swallow  me  and  my  words  the- 
gitlier,  Jean  ?  I  tell  ye  the  wrath  o'  God  maun  be  roused 
against  this  toon,  for  it's  been  growiu'  waur  and  waur  for  inouy 
a  year  ;  till  the  verra  lasses  are  no  to  be  lippent  oot  them -lanes 
(a/o/«fi)." 

'*  AVhat  ken  ye  aboot  the  lasses,  Thamas  ?  Hand  ye  to  the 
men.  The  lasses  are  nae  waur  nor  in  ither  pairts.  I  wat  I  can 
come  and  gang  whan  and  whaur  I  like.  Never  a  body  says  a 
word  to  nie." 

This  was  true  but  hardly  signiiicant ;  seeing  Jean  had  one 
shoulder  and  one  eye  twice  the  size  of  tiie  others,  to  say  nothing 
of  various  obliquities  and  their  compensations.  But,  rude  as 
Thomas  was,  he  was  gentleman  enough  to  confine  his  replv  to 
a  snort  and  a  silence.  For  had  he  not  chosen  his  housekeeper 
upon  the  strength  of  those  personal  recommendations  of  the  de- 
fensive importance  of  which  she  was  herself  unaware  ? 

Except  his  own  daughters  there  was  no  one  who  mourned  so 
deeply  for  the  loss  of  Mr  Cowie  as  Annie  Anderson.  She 
had  left  his  church  and  gone  to  the  inissionars,  and  there  found 
more  spiritual  nourishment  than  Mr  Cowie's  sermons  could 
supply,  but  she  could  not  forget  his  kisses,  or  his  gentle  words, 
or  his  shilling,  for  by  their  means,  although  she  did  not  know 
it,  Mr  Cowie's  self  had  given  her  a  more  confiding  notion  of 
God,  a  better  feeling  of  his  tenderness,  than  she  could  have  had 
from  all  Mr  Turnbull's  sermons  together.  What  equal  gift 
could  a  man  give  ?  Was  it  not  worth  bookfuls  of  sound 
doctrine  ?  Yet  the  good  man,  not  knowing  this,  had  often 
looked  back  to  that  interview,  and  reproached  himself  bitterly 
that  he,  so  long  a  clergyman  of  that  parish,  had  no  help  to  give 
the  only  child  who  ever  came  to  him  to  ask  such  help.  So, 
when  he  lay  on  his  death-bed,  he  sent  for  Annie,  the  only  soul, 
out  of  all  his  parish,  over  v\hich  he  felt  that  he  had  any  pastoral 
cure. 

When,  with  pale,  tearful  face,  she  entered  his  chamber,  she 
found  him  supported  with  pillows  in  his  bed.  He  stretched 
out  his  arms  to  her  feebly,  but  held  her  close  to  his  bosom, 
and  wept. 

"  I'm  going  to  die,  Annie,"  he  said. 

"  And  go  to  heaven,  sir,  to  the  face  o'  God,"  said  Annie, 
not  sobbing,  but  with  the  tears  streaming  silently  down  her  face. 

"  I  don't  know,  Annie.  I've  been  of  no  use  ;  and  I'm  afraid 
God  does  not  care  much  for  me." 


240  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN, 

"  If  God  loves  you  half  as  much  as  I  do,  sir,  ye'll  he  well 
oft"  ia  heaven.  And  I'm  thinkiu'  he  maun  love  ye  mair  nor 
me.     !For,-ye  see,  sii',  God's  love  itsel'." 

"  I  don't  knovp,  Annie.  But  if  ever  I  win  there,  whieh'll 
be  more  than  I  deserve,  I'll  tell  him  about  you,  and  ask  him 
to  give  you  the  help  that  I  couldn't  give  you." 

Love  and  Death  make  us  all  children. — Can  Old  Age  be 
an  evil  thing,  which  does  the  same  ? 

The  old  clergyman  had  thought  himself  a  good  Protestant 
at  least,  but  even  his  Protestantism  was  in  danger  now. 
Happily  Protestantism  was  nothing  to  him  now.  Nothing 
but  God  would  do  now. 

Annie  had  no  answer  but  what  lay  in  her  tears.  He  called 
his  daughter,  who  stood  weeping  in  the  room.    She  came  near. 

"  Bring  my  study  Bible,"  he  said  to  her  feebly. 

She  went  and  brought  it — a  large  quarto  Bible. 

"  Here,  Annie,"  said  the  dying  man,  "  here's  my  Bible  that 
I've  made  but  ower  little  use  o'  mysel'.  Promise  me,  if  ever 
ye  have  a  house  o'  your  own,  that  ye'll  read  out  o'  that  book 
every  day  at  worship.  I  want  you  not  to  forget  me,  as,  if 
all's  well,  I  shall  never  forget  you." 

"That  will  I,  sir,"  responded  Annie  earnestly. 

"  And  ye'll  find  a  new  five-pound  note  between  the  leaves. 
Take  it,  for  my  sake." 

Money  !     Ah,  well !     Love  can  turn  gold  into  grace. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Annie,  feeling  this  was  no  time  for 
objecting  to  anything. 

"  And  good-bye,  Annie.     I  can't  speak  more." 

He  drew  her  to  him  again,  and  kissed  her  for  the  last 
time.  Then  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall,  and  Annie  went 
home  weeping,  with  the  great  Bible  in  her  arms. 

In  the  inadvertence  of  grief,  she  ran  into  the  shop. 

"What  hae  ye  gotten  there,  lassie?"  said  Bruce,  as 
sharply  ^s  if  she  might  have  stolen  it. 

"  Mr  Cowie  gave  me  his  Bible,  'cause  he's  dein'  liimsel', 
and  doesna  want  it  ony  langer,"  answered  Annie. 

"  Lat's  luik  at  it." 

Annie  gave  it  up  with  reluctance. 

"  It's  a  braw  bulk,  and  bonnie  buirds — though  gowd  an' 
purple  maitters  little  to  the  Bible.  We'll  jist  lay't  upo'  the 
room-table,  an'  we'll  hae  worship  oot  o'  't  whan  ony  body's 
wi'  's,  ye  ken." 

"  I  want  it  myscl',"  objected  Annie,  in  dismay,  for  al- 
though she  did  not  think  of  the  money  at  the  moment,  she 
had  better  reasons  for  not  liking  to  part  with  the  book. 


ALEC  FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 


241 


"Te  can  hae't  when  ye  want  it.     That's  eneuch,  surely." 

Annie  could  hardly  think  his  saying  so  enough,  however, 

seeing  the  door  of  tlie  room  was  kept  locked,  and  Mrs  Bruce, 

patient  woman  as  she  was,  would  have  boxed  any  one's  ears 

whom  she  met  coming  from  within  the  sacre'd  precincts. 


CHAPTER  Liy. 


BEroRE  the  next  Sunday  Mr  Cowie  was  dead ;  and, 
through  some  mistake  or  mismanagement,  there  Was  no  one 
to  preach.  So  the  congregation  did  each  as  seemed  right  in 
his  own  eyes ;  and  Mrs  Forbes  went  to  the  missionar  kirk  in 
the  evening  to  hear  Mr  Turnbull.  Kate  and  Alec  accom- 
panied her. 

By  this  time  Eobert  Bruce  had  become  a  great  man  in 
the  community — after  his  own  judgment  at  least ;  for  al- 
though, with  a  few  exceptions,  the  missionars  yielded  him 
the  influence  he  sought,  nobody  respected  him  ;  they  only 
respected  his  money.  He  had  managed  to  secure  one  of  the 
most  fashionable  pews  in  the  chapel ;  and  now  when  Mrs 
Forbes's  party  entered,  and  a  little  commotion  arose  in  con- 
sequence, they  being  more  of  gentlefolk  than  the  place  was 
accustomed  to  entertain,  Bruce  was  the  first  to  walk  from 
his  seat,  aud  request  them  to  occupy  his  pew.  Alec  would 
have  passed  on,  for  he  disliked  the  man,  but  Mrs  Porbes 
having  reasons  for  being  complaisant,  accepted  his  ofter. 
Colds  kept  the  rest  of  the  Bruces  at  home,  and  Annie  was 
the  only  other  occupant  of  the  pew.  She  crept  up  to  the  top 
of  it,  like  a  little  shy  mouse,  to  be  as  far  out  of  the  way  as 
possible. 

"  Come  oot,  Annie,"  said  Bruce,  in  a  loud  whisper.' 

Annie  came  out,  with  a  warm  flush  over  her  pale  face,  and 
Mrs  Forbes  entered,  then  Kate,  and  last  of  all.  Alec,  much 
against  his  will.  Then  Annie  re-entered,  and  Bruce  resumed 
his  place  as  Cerberus  of  the  pew-door.  So  Annie  was  seated 
next  to  Alec,  as  she  had  never  been,  in  church  or  chapel,  or 
even  in  school,  before,  except  on  that  memorable  day  when 
they  were  both  kept  in  for  the  Shorter  Catechism.  But  Annie 
had  no  feeling  of  delight  and  awe  like  that  with  which  Alec 
sat  close  to  his  beautiful  cousin.  She  had  a  feeling  of 
pleasure,  no  doubt,  but  the  essence  of  the  pleasure  was  faith. 

16 


242  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

She  trusted  him  and  believed  in  him  as  much  as  she  had  ever 
done.  In  the  end,  those  who  trust  most  will  find  they  are  near- 
est the  truth.  But  Annie  had  no  philosophy,  either  worldly  or 
divine.  She  had  only  common  sense,  gentleness,  and  faithful- 
ness. She  was  very  glad,  though,  that  Alec  had  come  to  hear 
Mr  Turnbull,  who  knew  the  right  way  better  than  anybody 
else,  and  could  show  it  quite  as  well  as  Evangelist  in  the  Pil- 
griin's  Progress. 

Nor  was  she  far  wrong  in  her  judgment  of  the  height  of 
Mr  Turnbull's  star,  calculated  from  the  horizon  of  Glamerton. 
He  was  a  good  man  who  ventured  to  think  for  himself — as  far 
as  that  may  be  possible  for  one  upon  whose  spirit  have  con- 
verged, even  before  he  was  born,  the  influences  of  a  thousand 
theological  ancestors. 

After  reading  the  curses  on  Mount  Ebal,  he  preached  an 
eloquent  sermon  from  the  text : 

"  Thou  art  wearied  in  the  greatness  of  thy  way ;  yet  saidst 
thou  not  '  there  is  no  hope.'  " 

He  showed  his  hearers  that  they  had  all  been  seeking 
satisfaction  in  their  own  pursuits,  in  the  pride  of  their  own 
way ;  that  they  had  been  disappointed,  even  to  weariness ; 
and  that  yet,  such  was  their  perversity,  they  would  not 
acknowledge  the  hopelessness  of  the  pursuit,  and  turn  to  that 
God  who  was  ready  to  pardon,  and  in  whose  courts  a  day 
would  give  them  more  delight  than  a  thousand  in  the  tents  of 
wickedness.  And  opening  his  peroration  by  presumptuously 
appropriating  the  words  of  the  Saviour,  "  Verily,  verily,  I  say 
ujito  you,  it  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  Sodom  and  Gromorrha, 
in  that  day,  than  for  you,"  the  preacher  concluded  with  a 
terrible  denunciation  of  wrath  upon  the  sinners  who  had  been 
called  and  would  not  come.  "  Woe  unto  you,  for  ye  would 
not  be  warned!  Woe  unto  you,  for  ye  knew  your  Lord's 
will,  and  yet  committed  things  worthy  of  stripes  !  Therefore 
your  whip  shall  be  one  of  scorpions !  Woe  unto  you !  I 
say  ;  for,  when  the  bridegroom  cometh,  ye  shall  knock  in  vain 
at  the  closed  door ;  ye  shall  stand  without,  and  listen  for  a 
brief  moment  to  the  music  and  dancing  within — listen  with 
longing  hearts,  till  the  rush  of  coming  wings  overpowers  the 
blissful  sounds,  and  tbe  angels  of  vengeance  sweep  upon  you, 
and  bearing  you  afar  through  waste  regions,  cast  you  into 
outer  darkness,  where  sliall  be  weeping  and  wailing  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth,  to  the  endless  ages  of  a  divine  eternity." 

With  these  words  the  preacher  burst  into  impassioned 
prayer  for  the  souls  which  he  saw  exposed  to  a  hell  of  which 
he  himself  knew   not  the  horrors,  else  ho  dared  not  have 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  243 

preached  it ;  a  hell  the  smoke  of  whose  torments  would  arise 
and  choke  the  elect  themselves  about  the  throne  of  Grod — the 
hell  of  Exhausted  Mercy. 

As  long  as  the  stream  of  eloquence  flowed  the  eyes  of  the 
congregation  were  fixed  upon  the  preacher  in  breathless 
silence.  When  it  ceased  they  sank,  and  a  sigh  of  exhaustion 
and  relief  arose.  In  that  ugly  building,  amidst  that  weary 
praying  and  inharmonious  singing,  with  that  blatant  tone, 
and,  worse  than  all,  that  merciless  doctrine,  there  was  yet 
preacliing — that  rare  speech  of  a  man  to  his  fellow-men  where- 
by in  their  inmost  hearts  they  know  that  he  in  his  inmost 
heart  believes.  There  was  hardly  an  indilferent  countenance 
in  all  that  wide  space  beneath,  in  all  those  far-sloping  gal- 
leries above.     Every  conscience  hung  out  the  red  or  pale  flag. 

When  Alec  ventured  to  look  up,  as  he  sat  down  after  the 
prayer,  he  saw  the  eyes  of  Thomas  Crann,  far  away  in  the 
crowd,  fixed  on  him.  And  he  felt  their  force,  though  not  in 
the  way  Thomas  intended.  Thomas  never  meant  to  dart 
personal  reproaches  across  the  house  of  God ;  but  Alec's  con- 
science told  him  nevertheless,  stung  by  that  glance,  that  he 
had  behaved  ill  to  his  old  friend.  Nor  did  this  lessen  the 
general  feeling  which  the  sermon  had  awakened  in  his  mind, 
un-self-couscious  as  it  was,  that  something  ought  to  be  done ; 
that  something  was  wrong  in  him  somewhere ;  that  it  ought 
to  be  set  right  somehow — a  feeling  which  every  one  in  the  pew . 
shared, except  one.  His  heart  was  so  moth-eaten  and  rusty,  with 
the  moths  and  the  rust  which  Mammon  brings  with  him  when ' 
he  comes  in  to  abide  with  a  man,  that  there  was  not  enough 
of  it  left  to  make  the  terrible  discovery  that  the  rest  of  it  was 
gone.  Its  owner  did  not  know  that  there  was  anything  amiss 
with  it.  What  power  can  empty,  sweep,  and  garnish  such  a 
heart  ?  Or  what  seven  devils  entering  in,  can  make  the  last 
state  of  that  man  worse  than  the  first  ? 

A  special  prayer-meeting  having  been  appointed,  to  be 
held  after  the  sermon,  Eobert  Bruce  remained,  to  join  in  the 
intercession  for  the  wicked  town  and  its  wicked  neighbour- 
hood. He  even  "  engaged  in  prayer,"  for  the  first  time  in 
public,  and  astonished  some  of  the  older  members  by  his  gift 
in  devotion.  He  had  been  received  into  the  church  only  a 
week  or  two  before,  upon  profession  of  faith  in  the  merits  of 
Christ,  not  in  Christ  himself — that  would  not  have  been  de- 
finite enough  for  them.  But  it  would  have  been  all  the  same 
to  Eiobert  Bruce,  for  he  was  ready  to  believe  that  he  believed 
anything  advantageous. 

There  had  been  one  or  two  murmurs  against  his  recap- 


244  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX, 

tion,  and  lie  liacl  been  several  times  visited  and  talked  with, 
before  the  Church  was  satisfied  as  to  his  conversion.  But 
nothing  was  known  against  him  beyond  the  fact  that  "  he 
luikit  at  baith  sides  o'  a  bawbee ;  "  and  having  learned  many 
of  their  idioms,  he  had  succeeded  in  persuading  his  examiners, 
and  had  possibly  persuaded  himself  at  the  same  time,  that  he 
had  passed  through  all  the  phases  of  conversion,  including 
conviction,  repentance,  and  final  acceptance  of  offered  mercy 
on  the  terms  proposed,  and  was  now  undergoing  the  slow  and 
troublesome  process  of  sanctification ;  in  corroboration  of 
which  he  went  on  to  produce  talk,  and  coppers  at  the  chapel- 
door.  Good  people  as  many  of  those  were  who  thus  admitted 
him  to  their  communion,  in  the  full  belief  that  none  but  con- 
scious Christians  should  enjoy  that  privilege,  his  reputation 
for  wealth  had  yet  something  to  do  with  it.  Probably  they 
thought  that  if  the  gospel  proved  mighty  in  this  new  disciple, 
more  of  his  money  might  be  accessible  by  and  by  for  good 
purposes :  amongst  the  rest,  for  sending  missionaries  to  the 
heathen,  teaching  them  to  divorce  their  wives  and  wear 
trowsers.  And  now  he  had  been  asked  to  pray,  and  had  pray- 
ed with  much  propriety  and  considerable  unction.  To  be 
sure  Tibbie  Dyster  did  sniff  a  good  deal  during  the  perform- 
ance ;  but  then  that  wa.s  a  way  she  had  of  relieving  her  feel- 
ings, next  best  to  that  of  speaking  her  mind. 

When  the  meeting  was  over,  Robert  Bruce,  Thomas  Crann, 
and  James  Johnstone,  who  was  one  of  the  deacons,  walked 
away  together.  Very  little  conversation  took  place  between 
them,  for  no  subject  but  a  religious  one  was  admissible ;  and 
the  religious  feelings  of  those  who  had  any  were  pretty  nearly 
exhausted.  Bruce's,  however,  were  not  in  the  least  exhausted. 
On  the  contrary,  he  was  so  pleased  to  find  that  he  could  pray 
as  well  as  any  of  them,  and  the  excitement  of  doiug  so  before 
judges  had  been  so  new  and  pleasant  to  him,  that  he  thought 
he  should  like  to  try  it  again.  He  thought,  too,  of  the  grand 
Bible  lying  up  there  on  tlae  room-table. 

"  Come  in,  sirs,"  he  said,  as  they  approached  his  door, 
"  and  tak'  a  pairt  in  our  fairaily  worship ;  and  sae  the  day'll 
gang  oot  wi'  prayer,  as  it  cam  in  wi'  prayer.  And  the  Lord'll 
maybe  hae  mercy  upo'  's,  and  no  destroy  the  place,  sliops  an' 
a',  for  the  sins  o'  the  inhaibitauts — them  'at  sees,  for  them  'at 's 
blin'." 

Neither  of  his  companions  felt  much  inclined  to  accede 
to  his  request :  they  both  yielded  notwithstanding.  He  con- 
ducted them  up-stairs,  unlocked  the  musty  room,  pulled  up 
the  blinds,  and  admitted  enough  of  lingering  light  for  the  ecu- 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  245 

eluding  devotions  of  tlie  day.  He  then  proceeded  to  gather 
his  family  together,  calling  them  one  by  one. 

"  Mother  ! "  he  cried,  from  the  top  of  the  stair,  meaning 
his  wife. 

"  Yes,  father,"  answered  Mrs  Bruce. 

"  Come  to  worship. — Eobert !  " 

"  Ay,  father." 

"  Come  to  worship. — Johnnie !  " 

And  so  he  went  through  the  family  roll-call,  as  if  it  were 
a  part  of  some  strange  liturgy.  When  all  had  entered  and 
seated  themselves,  the  head  of  the  house  went  slowly  to  the 
side-table,  took  from  it  reverentially  the  late  minister's  study 
Bible,  sat  down  by  the  window,  laid  the  book  on  his  knees, 
and  solemnly  opened  it. 

Now  a  five-pound  note  is  not  thick  enough  to  make  a  big 
Bible  open  between  the  pages  where  it  is  laid ;  but  the  note 
might  very  well  have  been  laid  in  at  a  place  where  the  Bible 
was  in  the  habit  of  opening.  Without  an  instant's  hesitation, 
Hobert  slipped  it  away,  and  crumpling  it  up  in  his  hand,  gave 
out  the  twenty-third  psalm,  over  which  it  had  lain,  and  read 
it  through.  Finding  it  too  short,  however,  for  the  respect- 
ability of  worship,  he  went  on  with  the  twenty-fourth,  turning 
the  leaf  with  thumb  and  forefinger,  while  the  rest  of  the  fin- 
gers clasped  the  note  tight  in  his  palm,  and  reading  as  he 
turned, 

"  He  that  hath  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart — " 

As  soon  as  he  had  finished  this  psalm,  he  closed  the  book 
with  a  snap  ;  feeling  which  to  have  been  improper,  he  put  an 
additional  compensating  solemnity  into  the  tone  in  which  he 
said: 

"  Thomas  Crann,  will  you  engage  in  prayer  ?  " 

"  Pray  yersel',"  answered  Thomas  gruffly. 

Whereupon  Eobert  rose,  and,  kneeling  down,  did  pray 
himself. 

But  Thomas,  instead  of  leaning  forward  on  his  chair  when 
lie  knelt,  glanced  sharply  round  at  Bruce.  He  had  seen  him 
take  something  from  the  Bible,  and  crumple  it  up  in  his  hand, 
but  would  not  have  felt  any  inclination  to  speculate  about  it, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  peculiarly  keen  expression  of  eager 
surprise  and  happy  greed  which  came  over  his  face  in  the 
act.  Having  seen  that,  and  being  always  more  or  less  sus- 
picious of  Bruce,  he  wanted  to  know  more ;  and  was  thus  led 
into  an  action  of  which  he  would  not  have  believed  it  possible 
he  should  ever  be  guilty. 

He  saw  Bruce  take  advantage  of  the  posture  of  devotion 


246  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

wticli  he  had  assumed,  to  put  sometliing  into  his  pocket  un- 
seen of  his  guests,  as  he  believed. 

When  worship  was  over,  Bruce  did  not  ask  them  to  stay 
to  supper.  Prayers  did  not  involve  expense ;  supper  did.  But 
Thomas  at  least  could  not  have  stayed  longer. 

He  left  his  friends  and  went  home  pondering.  The  devo- 
tions of  the  day  were  not  to  be  concluded  for  him  with  any 
social  act  of  worship.  He  had  many  anxious  prayers  yet  to 
offer  before  his  heart  would  be  quiet  in  sleep.  Especially 
there  was  Alec  to  be  prayed  for,  and  his  dawtie,  Annie  ;  and 
in  truth  the  whole  town  of  Glamerton,  and  the  surrounding 
parishes — and  Scotland,  and  the  world.  Indeed  sometimes 
Thomas  went  farther,  and  although  it  is  not  reported  of  him 
that  he  ever  prayed  for  the  devil,  as  that  worthiest  of  Scotch 
clergymen  prayed,  he  yet  did  something  very  like  it  once  or 
twice,  when  he  prayed  for  "  the  haill  universe  o'  God,  an'  a' 
the  bein's  in't,  up  and  doon,  that  we  ken  unco  little  aboot." 


CHAPTEE  LY. 


The  next  morning  Kate  and  Alec  rosfe  early,  to  walk  be- 
fore breakfast  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  hills,  through  a  young 
larch-wood  which  covered  it  from  head  to  foot.  The  morning 
was  cool,  and  the  sun  exultant  as  a  good  child.  The  dew- 
diamonds  were  flashing  everywhere,  none  the  less  lovely  that 
they  were  fresh-made  that  morning.  The  lark's  song  was  a 
cantata  with  the  sun  and  the  wind  and  the  larch-odours,  in 
short,  the  whole  morning  for  the  words.  How  the  larks  did 
sing  that  morning !  The  only  clouds  were  long  pale  delicate 
streaks  of  lovely  gradations  in  gray ;  here  mottled,  there 
swept  into  curves.  It  was  just  the  morning  to  rouse  a  wild 
longing  for  motion,  for  the  sea  and  its  shore,  for  endless 
travel  through  an  endless  region  of  grace  and  favour,  the  sun 
rising  no  higher,  the  dew  lingering  on  every  blade,  and  the 
lark  never  wearying  for  his  nest.  Kate  longed  for  some  in- 
finitude of  change  without  vicissitude — ceaseless  progress 
towards  a  goal  endlessly  removed !  She  did  not  know  that 
the  door  into  that  life  might  have  been  easier  to  find  in  that 
ugly  chapel  than  even  here  in  the  vestibule  of  heaven. 

"  My  nurse  used  to  call  the  lark  '  Our  Lady's  hen,'  "  said 
Kate. 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  247 

"  How  pretty  ! "  answered  Alec,  aiid  liad  no  more  to  say. 
"  Are  the  people  of  Grlamerton  very  wicked,  Alec  ?  "  asked 
Kate,  making  another  attempt  to  rouse  a  conversation. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  answered  Alec.     "  I  suppose 
they're  no  worse  than  other  people." 

"  I  thought  from  Mr  Turnbull's  sermon  that  they  must  be 
a  great  deal  worse." 

"  Oh  !  they  all  preach  like  that — except  good  Mr  Cowie, 
and  he's  dead." 

"  Do  you  think  he  knew  better  than  the  rest  of  thera  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know  that.     But  the  missionars  do  know  some- 
thing that  other  people  don't  know.     And  that  Mr  Turnbull 
always  speaks  as  if  he  were  in  earnest." 
"  Tes,  he  does." 

"  But  there's  that  fellow  Bruce  ! " 
"  Do  you  mean  the  man  that  put  us  into  his  seat  ?  " 
"  Yes.     I  can't  think  what  makes  my  mother  so  civil  to 
him." 

"Why  shouldn't  she  be '?  " 

"  Well,  you  see — I  can't  bear  him.  And  I  can't  under- 
stand my  mother.     It's  not  like  her." 

In  a  moment  more  they  were  in  a  gentle  twilight  of  green, 
flashed  with  streaks  of  gold.  A  forest  of  delicate  young 
larches  crowded  them  in,  their  rich  brown  cones  hanging  like 
the  knops  that  looped  up  their  dark  garments  fringed  with 
paler  green. 

And  the  scent !  What  a  thing  to  invent — the  smell  of  a 
larch  wood  !  It  is  the  essence  of  the  earth-odour,  distilled  in 
the  thousand-fold  alembics  of  those  feathery  trees.  And  the 
light  winds  that  awoke  blew  murmurous  music,  so  sharply 
and  sweetly  did  that  keen  foliage  divide  the  air. 

Having  gazed  their  fill  on  the  morning  around  them,  they 
returned  to  breakfast,  and  after  breakfast  they  went  down  to 
the  river.  They  stood  on  the  bank,  over  one  of  the  deepest 
pools,  in  the  bottom  of  which  the  pebbles  glimmered  brown. 
Kate  gazed  into  it  abstracted,  fascinated,  swinging  her  neck- 
erchief in  her  hand.     Something  fell  into  the  water. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried,  "  what  shall  I  do  ?  It  was  my  mother's." 
The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  her  mouth  when  Alec  was 
in  the  water.  Bubbles  rose  and  broke  as  he  vanished.  Kate 
did  not  scream,  but  stood,  pale,  with  parted  lips,  staring  into 
the  pool.  With  a  boiling  and  heaving  of  the  water,  he  rose 
triumphant,  holding  up  the  brooch.  Kate  gave  a  cry  and 
threw  herself  on  the  grass.  When  Alec  reached  her,  she  lay 
sobbing,  and  would  not  lift  her  head. 


248 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 


*'  Tou  are  very  unkind,  Alec,"  slie  said  at  last,  looking  up, 
"  TV  liat  will  your  raotlier  say  ?  " 

And  she  hid  her  face  and  began  to  sob  afresh. 
"  It  was  your  mother's  brooch,"  answered  Alec. 
"  Tes,  yes ;  but  we  could  have  got  it  out  somehow." 
"  No  other  how. — I  would  have  done  that  for  any  girl. 
Tou  don't  know  what  I  would  do  for  you,  Kate." 

"  Tou  shouldn't  have  frightened  me.  I  had  been  think- 
ing how  greedy  the  pool  looked,"  said  Kate,  rising  now,  as  if 
she  dared  not  remain  longer  beside  it. 

_ "  I  didn't  mean  to  frighten  you,  Kate.     I  never  thought 
of  it.     I  am  almost  a  water-rat." 

"  And  now  you'll  get  your  death  of  cold.     Come  along." 
Alec  laughed.    He  was  in  no  hurry  to  go  home.    But  she 
seized  his  hand  and  half-dragged  him  all  the  way.     He  had 
never  been  so  happy  in  his  life. 

Kate  had  cried  because  he  had  jumped  into  the  water ! 
That  night  they  had  a  walk  in  the  moonlight.  It  was  all 
moon — the  air  with  the  mooncore  in  it ;  the  trees  confused 
into  each  other  by  the  sleep  of  her  light ;  the  bits  of  water, 
so  many  moons  over  again  ;  the  flowers,  all  pale  phantoms  of 
flowers :  the  whole  earth,  transfused  with  reflex  light,  was 
changed  into  a  moon-ghost  of  its  former  self.  They  were 
walking  in  the  moon-world. 

The  silence  and  the  dimness  sank  into  Alec's  soul,  and  it 
became  silent  and  dim  too.  The  only  sound  was  the  noise  of 
the  river,  quenched  in  that  light  to  the  sleepy  hush  of  moon- 
haunted  streams. 

Kate  felt  that  she  had  more  room  now.  And  yet  the 
scope  of  her  vision  was  less,  for  the  dusk  had  closed  in  around 
her. 

She  had  ampler  room  because  the  Material  had  retired  as 
behind  a  veil,  leaving  the  Immaterial  less  burdened,  and  the 
imagination  more  free  to  work  its  will.  The  Spiritual  is  ever 
putting  on  material  garments ;  but  in  the  moonlight,  the 
Material  puts  on  spiritual  garments. 

Kate  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  an  old  tree  which  stood  alone 
in  one  of  the  fields.     Alec  threw  himself  on  the  grass,  and 
looked  up  in  her  ftice,  which  was  the  spirit-moon  shining  into 
his  world,  and  drowning  it  in  dreams. — The  Arabs  always   \y' 
call  their  beautiful  women  moons. — Kate  sat  as  silent  as  the 
moon  in  heaven,  which  rained  down  silence.     And  Alec  lay 
gazing  at  Kate,  till  silence  gave  birth  to  speech : 
"  Oh  Kate !     How  I  love  you  !  "  he  said. 
Kate  started.     She  was  frightened.     Her  mind  had  been 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  249 

full  of  gentle  thoughts.  Tet  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm 
and  accepted  the  love. — But  how  ? 

"  Tou  dear  boy  !  "  she  said. 

Perhaps  Kate's  answer  was  the  best  she  could  have  given. 
But  it  stung  Alec  to  the  heart,  and  they  went  home  in  a 
changed  silence. — The  resolution  she  came  to  upon  the  way 
was  not  so  good  as  her  answer. 

She  did  not  love  Alec  so.  He  could  not  understand  her ; 
she  could  not  look  up  to  him.  But  he  was  only  a  boy,  and 
therefore  would  not  suffer  much.  He  would  forget  her  as 
soon  as  she  was  out  of  his  sight.  So  as  he  was  a  very  dear 
boy,  she  would  be  as  kind  to  him  as  ever  she  could,  for  she 
was  going  away  soon. 

She  did  not  see  that  Alec  would  either  take  what  she  gave 
for  more  than  she  gave,  or  else  turn  from  it  as  no  gift  at  all. 

When  they  reached  the  house.  Alec,  recovering  himself  a 
little,  requested  her  to  sing.  She  complied  at  once,  and  was 
foolish  enough  to  sing  the  following 

BALLAD. 

It  is  May,  and  the  moon  leans  down  all  night 

Over  a  blossomy  land. 
By  her  window  sits  the  lady  white,  ^ 

With  her  chin  upon  her  hand. 

*'  0  sing  to  me,  dear  nightingale, 
The  song  of  a  year  ago  ; 
I  have  had  enough  of  longing  and  wail, 
Enough  of  heart-break  and  woe. 

0  glimmer  on  me,  my  apple-tree, 

Like  living  flakes  of  snow ; 
Let  odour  and  moonlight  and  melody 

In  the  old  rich  harmony  flow." 

The  dull  odours  stream ;  the  cold  blossoms  gleam ; 

And  the  bird  will  not  be  glad. 
The  dead  never  speak  when  the  living  dream — 

They  are  too  weak  and  sad. 

She  listened  and  sate,  till  night  grew  late, 

Bound  by  a  weary  spell. 
Then  a  face  came  in  at  the  garden-gate. 

And  a  wondrous  thing  befell. 

Up  rose  the  joy  as  well  as  the  love, 

In  the  song,  in  the  scent,  in  the  show  ! 
The  moon  grew  glad  in  the  sky  above, 

The  blossom  grew  rosy  below. 


250  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

The  blossom  and  moon,  the  scent  and  the  tune, 

In  ecstasy  rise  and  fall. 
But  they  had  no  thanks  for  the  granted  boon, 

For  the  lady  forgot  them  all. 

There  was  no  light  in  the  room  except  that  of  the  shining 
air.  Alec  sat  listening,  as  if  Kate  were  making  and  meaning 
the  song.  But  notwithstanding  the  enchantment  of  the  night, 
all  rosy  in  the  red  glow  of  Alec' s  heart ;  notwithstanding  that 
scent  of  gilly-flowers  and  sweet-peas  stealing  like  love  through 
every  open  door  and  window ;  notwithstanding  the  radiance 
of  her  own  beauty,  Kate  was  only  singing  a  song.  It  is  sad 
to  have  all  the  love  and  all  the  mystery  to  oneself — the  other 
being  the  centre  of  the  glory,  and  yet  far  beyond  its  outmost 
ring,  sitting  on  a  music-stool  at  a  common  piano  old-fashioned 
and  jingling,  not  in  fairyland  at  all  in  fact,  or  even  believing 
in  its  presence. 

But  that  night  the  moon  was  in  a  very  genial  humour, 
and  gave  her  light  plentiful  and  golden.  She  would  even 
dazzle  a  little,  if  one  looked  at  her  too  hard.  She  could  not 
dazzle  Tibbie  though,  who  was  seated  with  Annie  on  the  pale 
green  grass,  with  the  moon  about  them  in  the  air  and  beneath 
them  in  the  water. 

"  Te  say  it's  a  fine  munelieht  nicht,  Annie." 

"  Ay,  'deed  is't.     As  bonnie  a  nicht  as  ever  I  saw." 

"  Weel,  it  jist  passes  my  comprehension — hoo  ye  can  see, 
whan  the  ait-'s  like  this.  1'  the  winter  ye  canna  see,  for  it's 
aye  cauld  whan  the  sun's  awa ;  and  though  it's  no  cauld  the 
nicht,  I  fin'  that  there's  no  licht  i'  the  air — there's  a  difi"er; 
it's  deid-like.  But  the  soun'  o'  the  water's  a'  the  same,  and 
the  smell  o'  some  o'  the  flowers  is  bonnier  i'  the  nicht  nor  i' 
the  day.  That's  a'  verra  weel.  But  hoo  ye  can  see  whan  the 
sun's  awa,  I  say  again,  jist  passes  my  comprehension." 

"  It's  the  muue,  ye  ken,  Tibbie." 

"  Weel,  what's  the  mune  ?     I  dinna  fin'  't.     It  mak's  no 
impress  upo'  me. — Te  canna  see  sae  weel's  ye  say,  lass !  "  ex 
claimed  Tibbie,  at  length,  in  a  triumph  of  incredulity  and  self 
assertion. 

"Weel,  gin  ye  winna  believe  me  o'  yer  ain  free  will,  Tib 
bie,  I  maun  jist  gar  ye,"  said  Annie.  And  she  rose,  and  run- 
ning into  the  cottage,  fetched  from  it  a  small  pocket  Bible. 

"Noo,  ye  jist  hearken,  Tibbie,"  she  said,  as  she  returned. 
And,  opening  the  Bible,  she  read  one  of  Tibbie's  favourite 
chapters,  rather  slowly  no  doubt,  but  with  perfect  correctness. 

"  "Weel,  lassie,  I  canna  mak  heid  or  tail  o'  't." 

"  I'll  tell  ye,  Tibbie,  what  the  mune  aye  minds  me  o'.     The 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  251 

face  o'  God's  like  the  sun,  as  ye  hae  tellt  me ;  for  no  man  cud 
see  him  and  live." 

"  That's  no  sayin',  ye  ken,"  interposed  Tibbie,  "  that  we 
canna  see  him  efter  we're  deid." 

"  But  the  mune,"  continued  Annie,  disregarding  Tibbie's 
interruption,  "  maun  be  like  the  face  o'  Christ,  for  it  gies  licht 
and  ye  can  luik  at  it  notwithstandin'.  The  mune's  jist  like  the 
sun  wi'  the  ower-muckle  taen  oot  o'  't.  Or  like  Moses  wi'  the 
veil  ower's  face,  ye  ken.  The  fowk  cudna  luik  at  him  till  he 
pat  the  veil  on." 

"  Na,  na,  lass  ;  that  winna  do ;  for  ye  ken  his  coontenance 
was  as  the  sun  shineth  in  his  strenth." 

"  Ay,  but  that  was  efter  the  resurrection,  ye  ken.  I'm 
thinkin'  there  had  been  a  kin'  o'  a  veil  ower  his  face  a'  the  time 
he  was  upo'  the  earth ;  and  syne  whan  he  gaed  whaur  there 
war  only  heavenly  een  to  luik  at  him,  een  that  could  bide  it, 
he  took  it  aff." 

"  Weel,  I  wadna  wonner.  Maybe  ye're  richt.  And  gin  ye 
le  richt,  that  accounts  for  the  Transfiguration.  He  jist  lifted 
the  veil  aff  o'  'm  a  wee,  and  the  glory  aneath  it  lap  oot  wi'  a 
leme  like  the  lichtnin'.  But  that  munelicht !  I  can  mak  nae- 
thing  o'  't." 

"  Weel,  Tibbie,  I  canna  mak  you  oot  ony  mair  nor  ye  can 
the  munelicht.  Whiles  ye  appear  to  ken  a'  thing  aboot  the 
licht,  an'  ither  whiles  ye're  clean  i'  the  dark." 

"  Never  ye  miu'  me,  lass.  I  s'  be  i'  the  licht  some  day. 
Noo  we'll  gang  in  to  the  hoose." 


CHAPTER  LVl. 


Murdoch  MALisoisr,  the  schoolmaster,  was  appointed  to 
preach  in  the  parish  church  the  following  Sunday.  He  had 
never  preached  there,  for  he  had  been  no  favourite  with  Mr 
Cowie.  Now,  however,  that  the  good  man  was  out  of  the 
way,  they  gave  him  a  chance,  and  he  caught  at  it,  though  not 
without  some  misgivings.  In  the  school-desk,  "  he  was  like  a 
maister  or  a  pope  ;  "  but  the  pulpit— how  would  he  fill  that  ? 
Two  resolutions  he  came  to  ;  the  first  that  he  would  not  read 
his  sermon,  but  commit  it  and  deliver  it  as  like  the  extempore 
utterance  of  which  he  was  incapable  as  might  be — a  piece  of 
falsehood  entirely  understood,  and  justified  by  Scotch  custom ; 


252  ALEC  FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

the  second,  to  take  rather  more  than  a  hint  from  the  fashion 
of  preaching  now  so  much  in  favour  amongst  the  seceders 
and  missiouars :  he  would  be  a  Jujpiter  tonaTis,  wielding  the 
forked  lightnings  of  the  law  against  the  sins  of  Glamerton. 

So,  on  the  appointed  day,  having  put  on  a  new  suit  of 
black,  and  the  gown  over  it,  he  ascended  the  pulpit  stairs, 
and,  conscious  of  a  strange  timidity,  gave  out  the  psalm.  He 
cast  one  furtive  glance  around,  as  he  took  his  seat  for  the 
singing,  and  saw  a  number  of  former  as  well  as  present  pupils 
gathered  to  hear  him,  amongst  whom  were  the  two  Truffeys, 
with  their  grandfather  seated  between  them.  He  got  through 
the  prayer  very  well,  for  he  was  accustomed  to  that  kind  of 
thing  in  the  school.  But  when  he  came  to  the  sermon,  he 
found  that  to  hear  boys  repeat  their  lessons  and  punish  them 
for  failure,  did  not  necessarily  stimulate  the  master's  own 
memory. 

He  gave  out  his  text :  The  Book  of  the  Prophet  Joel,  first 
chapter,  fourth  verse.  Joel,  first  and  fourth.  "  That  which 
the  palmer-worm  hath  left,  hath  the  locust  eaten ;  and  that 
which  the  locust  hath  left,  hath  the  canker-worm  eaten ;  and 
that  which  the  canker-worm  hath  left,  hath  the  caterpillar 
eaten." 

Now  if  he  could  have  read  his  sermon,  it  would  have 
shown  itself  a  most  creditable  invention.  It  had  a  general 
introduction  upon  the  temporal  punishment  of  sin  ;  one  head 
entitled,  "The  completeness  of  the  infliction;"  and  another, 
"  The  punishment  of  which  this  is  the  type ; "  the  latter 
showing  that  those  little  creeping  things  were  not  to  be  com- 
pared to  the  great  creeping  thing,  namely,  the  worm  that 
never  dies.  These  two  heads  had  a  number  of  horns  called 
particulars  ;  and  a  tail  called  an  aj)plication,  in  which  the  sins 
of  his  hearers  were  duly  chastised,  with  vague  and  awful 
threats  of  some  vengeance  not  confined  to  the  life  to  come, 
but  ready  to  take  present  form  in  such  a  judgment  as  that 
described  in  the  text. 

But  he  had  resolved  not  to  read  his  sermon.  So  he  began 
to  repeat  it,  with  sweeps  of  the  hands,  pointings  of  the  fin- 
gers, and  other  such  tricks  of  second-rate  actors,  to  aid  the 
self-delusion  of  his  hearers  that  it  was  a  genuine  present  out- 
burst from  the  soul  of  Murdoch  Malison.  For  they  all  knew 
as  well  as  he  did,  that  his  sermon  was  only  "  cauld  kail  het 
again."  But  some  family  dishes — Irish  stew,  for  example,  or 
Scotch  broth — may  be  better  the  second  day  than  the  first ; 
and  where  was  the  harm  ?  All  concerned  would  have  been 
perfectly  content,  if  he  had  only  gone  on  as  he  began.     But, 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  253 

as  lie  approached  the  second  head,  the  fear  suddenly  flashed 
through  his  own  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  recall  it;  and 
that  moment  all  the  future  of  his  sermon  was  a  blank.  He  stam- 
mered, stared,  did  nothing,  thought  nothing — only  felt  himself 
in  hell.  Eoused  by  the  sight  of  the  faces  of  his  hearers  growing 
suddenly  expectant  at  the  very  moment  when  he  had  nothing 
more  to  give  them,  he  gathered  his  seven  fragmentary  wits, 
and  as  a  last  resort,  to  which  he  had  had  a  vague  regard  in 
putting  his  manuscript  in  his  pocket,  resolved  to  read  the 
remainder.  But  in  order  to  give  the  change  of  mode  an  ap- 
pearance of  the  natural  and  suitable,  he  managed  with  a 
struggle  to  bring  out  the  words  : 

"  But,  my  brethren,  let  us  betake  ourselves  to  the  written 
testimony." 

Every  one  concluded  he  was  going  to  quote  from  Scrip- 
ture ;  but  instead  of  turning  over  the  leaves  of  the  Bible,  he 
plunged  his  hand  into  the  abysses  of  his  coat.  Horror  of 
horrors  for  the  poor  autocrat ! — the  pocket  was  as  empty  as 
his  own  memory  ;  in  fact  it  was  a  mere  typical  pocket,  typical 
of  the  brains  of  its  owner.  The  cold  dew  of  agony  broke 
over  him ;  he  turned  deadly  pale ;  his  knees  smote  one  an- 
other ;  but  he  made  yet,  for  he  was  a  man  of  strong  will,  a 
final  frantic  eflbrt  to  bring  his  discourse  down  the  inclined 
plane  of  a  conclusion. 

"  In  fine,"  he  stammered  "  my  beloved  brethren,  if  you  do 
not  repent  and  be  converted  and  return  to  the  Lord,  you  will 
— you  will — you  will  have  a  very  bad  harvest." 

Having  uttered  this  solemn  prediction,  of  the  import  of 
which  he,  like  some  other  prophets,  knew  nothing  before  he 
uttered  it,  Murdoch  Malison  sat  down,  a  stichit  minister. 
His  brain  was  a  vacuum ;  and  the  thought  of  standing  up 
again  to  pray  was  intolerable.  No  more  could  he  sit  there ; 
for  if  he  sat,  the  people  would  sit  too.  Something  must  be 
done,  and  there  was  nobody  to  do  anything.  He  must  get 
out  and  then  the  people  would  go  home.  But  how  could  he 
escape  ?  He  durst  not  go  down  that  pulpit  stair  in  the  sight 
of  the  congregation. — He  cared  no  more  for  his  vanished  re- 
putation.    His  only  thought  was  how  to  get  out. 

Meantime  the  congregation  was  variously  affected.  Some 
held  down  their  heads  and  laughed  immoderately.  These 
were  mostly  of  Mr  Malison's  scholars,  the  fine  edge  of  whose 
nature,  if  it  ever  had  any,  had  vanished  under  the  rasp  of  his 
tortures.  Even  Alec,  who,  with  others  of  the  assembly,  held 
down  his  head  from  sympathetic  shame,  could  not  help  re- 
membering how  the  master  had  made  Annie  Anderson  stand 


254  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX. 

upon  the  form,  and  believing  for  the  time  in  a  general  retri- 
bution in  kind. 

Andrew  Truffey  was  crying  bitterly.  His  sobs  were  beard 
through  the  church,  and  some  took  them  for  the  sobs  of  Mur- 
doch Malison,  who  had  shrunk  into  the  pulpifc  like  a  snail 
into  its  shell,  so  that  not  an  atom  of  his  form  was  to  be  seen 
except  from  the  side-galleries.  The  maiden  daughter  of  the 
late  schoolmaster  gave  a  shriek,  and  went  into  a  small  fit ; 
after  which  an  awful,  quite  sepulchral  silence  reigned  for  a 
few  moments,  broken  only  by  those  quivering  sobs  from 
Truffey,  whom  his  grandfather  was  feebly  and  ineftectually 
shaking. 

At  length  the  precentor,  George  Macwha,  who  had  for 
some  time  been  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his  psalm-book, 
came  to  the  rescue.  He  rose  in  the  lectern  and  gave  out 
Tlw  hundred  and  fifty-first  psalm.  The  congregation  could 
only  find  a  hundred  and  fifty,  and  took  the  last  of  the  psalms 
for  the  one  meant.  But  George,  either  from  old  spite  against 
the  tormentor  of  boys  and  girls,  or  from  mere  coincidence — 
he  never  revealed  which — had  chosen  in  reality  a  part  of  the 
fifty  first  psalm. 

"  The  hunner  an'  fifty-first  psalm,"  repeated  George, "  from 
the  fifteent  verse.     An'  syne  we'll  gang  hame. 

My  closed  lips,  0  Lord,  by  thee, 
Let  them  be  opened." 

As  soon  as  the  singing  was  over,  George  left  the  desk, 
and  the  congregation  following  his  example,  went  straggling 
out  of  the  church,  and  home,  to  wait  with  doubtful  patience 
for  the  broth  which  as  yet  could  taste  only  of  onions  and  the 
stone  that  scoured  the  pot. 

As  soon  as  the  sounds  of  retiring  footsteps  were  heard  no 
more  in  the  great  echoing  church,  uprose,  like  one  of  Dante's 
damned  out  of  a  torture-tomb,  the  form  of  Murdoch  Malison, 
above  the  edge  of  the  pulpit.  With  face  livid  as  that  of  a 
corpse,  he  gave  a  scared  look  around,  and  not  seeing  little 
Truftey  concealed  behind  one  of  the  pillars,  concluded  the 
place  empty,  and  half  crawled,  half  tumbled  down  the  stair 
to  the  vestry,  where  the  sexton  was  waiting  him.  It  did  not 
restore  his  lost  composure  to  discover,  in  searching  for  his 
handkerchief,  that  the  encumbrance  of  the  gown  had  made 
him  put  his  liand  ten  times  into  the  same  pocket,  instead  of 
five  times  into  each,  and  that  in  the  other  his  manuscript  lay 
as  safe  as  it  had  been  useless. 

But  he  took  his  gown  off"  very  quietly,  put  on  his  coat 


ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN.  855 

and  forgot  the  bands,  bade  the  old  sexton  a  gentle  good  day, 
and  stole  away  borne  through  the  streets.  He  had  wanted  to 
get  out,  and  now  he  wanted  to  get  in ;  for  he  felt  very  much 
as  Lady  Godiva  would  have  felt  if  her  hair  or  her  heroism 
had  proved  unworthy  of  confidence. 

Poor  Murdoch  had  no  mother  and  no  wife :  be  could  not 
go  home  and  be  comfoi'ted.  Nor  was  he  a  youth,  to  whom  a 
first  failure  might  be  of  small  consequence.  He  was  five  and 
forty,  and  his  head  was  sprinkled  with  grey ;  he  was  school- 
master, and  everybody  knew  him ;  he  had  boys  under  him. 
As  he  walked  along  the  deserted  streets,  he  felt  that  he  was 
running  the  gauntlet  of  scorn ;  but  every  one  who  saw  him 
coming  along  with  his  head  sunk  on  his  bosom,  drew  back 
from  the  window  till  he  had  gone  by.  Eeturning  to  the  win- 
dow to  look  after  him,  they  saw,  about  twenty  yards  behind 
him,  a  solitary  little  figure,  with  the  tears  running  down  its 
face,  stumping  slowly  step  by  step,  and  keeping  the  same 
distance,  after  the  dejected  master. 

When  Mr  Malison  went  into  the  vestry,  Truffey  had  gone 
into  the  porch,  and  there  staid  till  he  passed  on  his  way  home. 
Then  with  stealthily  set  crutch,  putting  it  do^Ti  as  the  wild 
beast  sets  down  his  miching  paw,  out  sprang  Truffey  and 
after  the  master.  But  however  silently  Trufley  might  use 
his  third  leg,  the  master  heard  the  stump  stump  behind  him, 
and  felt  that  he  was  followed  home  every  foot  of  the  way  by 
the  boy  whom  he  had  crippled.  He  felt,  too,  in  some  dim 
d-egree  which  yet  had  practical  results,  that  the  boy  was 
taking  divine  vengeance  upon  him,  heaping  on  his  head  the 
coals  of  that  consuming  fire  which  is  love,  which  is  our  God. 
And  when  the  first  shame  was  over,  the  thought  of  Trufi"ey 
came  back  with  healing  on  his  lonely  heart. 

When  he  reached  his  own  door,  he  darted  in  and  closed  it 
behind,  as  if  to  shut  out  the  whole  world  through  which  he 
had  passed  with  that  burden  of  contempt  upon  his  degraded 
shoulders.  He  was  more  ashamed  of  his  failure  than  he  had 
been  sorry  for  laming  Trufi'ey.  But  the  shame  would  pass  ; 
the  sorrow  would  endure. 

Meantime  two  of  his  congregation,  sisters,  poor  old  mutcTied 
ivifies,  were  going  home  together.  They  were  distantly  re- 
lated to  the  schoolmaster,  whom  they  regarded  as  the  honour 
of  the  family,  as  their  bond  of  relation  with  the  world  above 
them  in  general  and  with  the  priesthood  in  particular.  So 
when  Eispeth  addressed  Meg  with  reference  to  the  sermon  in 
a  manner  which  showed  her  determination  to  acknowledge  no 
failure,  Meg  took  her  cue  directly. 


256  ALEC   FORBES   OF   MOWGLEN. 

"  Eh  !  "woman ;  it's  a  sair  ootluik  for  puir  fowk  like  ub, 
gin  tilings  be  gaein  that  gait !  " 

"  And  'deed  it's  that,  lass  !  Gin  the  hairst  be  gaein  to  the 
moles  and  the  bats,  it's  time  we  war  awa  hame ;  for  it'll  be  a 
cauld  winter." 

"  Ay,  that  it  will !  The  minister  was  sair  owercome  at  the 
prospec',  honest  man.  It  was  a'  he  cud  do,  to  win  at  the  en' 
o'  his  discoorse  ohn  grutten  ootricht." 

"  He  sees  into  the  will  o'  the  Almichty.  He's  far  ben  wi' 
Him — that's  verra  clear." 

"  Ay,  lass,  ay." 

And  hence,  by  slow  degrees,  in  the  middle  of  the  vague 
prophecies  of  vengeance  gathered  a  more  definite  kernel  of 
prediction,  believed  by  some,  disbelieved,  yet  feared,  by  others 
— that  the  harvest  would  be  so  eaten  of  worms  and  blasted 
with  smut,  that  bread  would  be  up  to  famine  prices,  and  the 
poor  would  die  of  starvation. 

But  still  the  flowers  came  out  and  looked  men  in  the  face 
and  went  in  again ;  and  still  the  sun  shone  on  the  evil  and  on 
the  good,  and  still  the  rain  fell  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust. 

And  still  the  denunciations  from  the  pulpits  went  on  ;  but 
the  human  souls  thus  exposed  to  the  fires  seemed  only  to 
harden  under  their  influences. 


CHAPTEE  LVII. 


Befoee  the  period  of  Kate's  visit  arrived,  a  letter  from 
Professor  Eraser,  to  the  purport  that  if  Mrs  Eorbes  did  not 
mind  keeping  Kate  a  little  longer  he  would  be  greatly  in- 
debted to  her,  came  to  Alec  like  a  reprieve  from  execution. 
And  the  little  lonxjer  lengthened  into  the  late  harvest  of  that 
country. 

The  summer  shone  on,  and  the  corn  grew,  green  and 
bonnie.  And  Alec's  love  grew  with  the  corn  ;  and  Kate  liked 
him  better  and  better,  but  was  not  a  whit  more  inclined  to  fall 
in  love  with  him. 

One  night,  after  the  house  was  quiet.  Alec,  finding  he 
could  not  sleep,  rose  and  went  out  to  play  the  ghost  a  while. 
It  was  a  sultry  night.  Great  piles  of  cloud  were  heaped  up  in 
the  heavens.  The  moon  gleamed  and  vanished  by  tits,  looking 
old  and  troubled  when  she  sighed  herself  out  of  a  cloud. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  257 

"There's  a  storm  coming,"  said  Alec  to  himself;  and  watched 
and  waited.  There  was  no  wind  below.  The  leaves  of  the 
black  poplar,  so  ready  to  tremble,  hung  motionless  ;  and  not  a 
bat  came  startling  on  its  nnheard  skinny  wing.  But  ere  long 
a  writhing  began  in  the  clouds  overhead,  and  they  were 
twisted  and  torn  about  the  moon.  Then  came  a  blinding  flash, 
and  a  roar  of  thunder,  followed  by  a  bellowing,  as  if  the  air 
were  a  great  drum,  on  which  Titanic  hands  were  beating  and 
rolling.  Then  the  rain  poured  down,  and  the  scent  of  the 
earth  rose  into  the  air.  Alec  ran  to  look  up  at  Kate's  window. 
His  heart  bounded  when  he  saw  a  white  figure  looking  out 
into  the  stormy  dark. 

"  Kate !  Kate !  "  he  cried,  in  a  loud  whisper,  "  come  out — 
do  come  out.     It's  so  splendid  !  " 

She  started  and  drew  back.  Presently  she  reappeared, 
and  opening  the  window,  said, 

"  Alec !  do  come  in." 

"  No,  no.  Tou  come  out,  Kate.  Tou  don't  know  what 
it's  like.    Tou  have  only  to  get  into  bed  again." 

Kate  hesitated.  But  in  a  moment  more  she  withdrew. 
Alec  saw  she  meant  to  come,  and  flew  round  to  the  door. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  glided  silently  out,  and  fronted  the  black 
sky.  The  same  moment  another  flash,  in  which  her  spirit 
seemed  to  her  to  be  universal,  flung  the  darkness  aside- 
She  could  have  counted  the  houses  of  Grlamerton.  The  hills 
rose  up  within  her  very  soul.  The  Glamour  shone  in  silver. 
The  harvest  gleamed  in  greeu.  The  larch-forest  hung  like 
a  cloud  on  the  horizon.  Then  the  blank  dark  folded  again 
its  scared  wings  over  the  world ;  and  the  trees  rustled  their 
leaves  with  one  wavy  sweep,  and  were  still.  And  again  the 
rain  came  down  in  a  tumult — warm,  genial  summer  rain,  full 
of  the  life  of  lightning.  Alec  stood  staring  through  the  dull 
dark,  as  if  he  would  see  Kate  by  the  force  of  his  will  alone. 
The  tempest  in  the  heavens  had  awaked  a  like  tempest  in  his 
bosom  :  would  the  bosom  beside  his  receive  his  lightning  and 
calm  his  pent-up  storm  by  giving  it  space  to  rave  ?  His  hand 
took  hers  beseechingly.  Another  flash  came,  and  he  saw  her 
face.  The  whole  gloi'y  of  the  night  gloomed  and  flashed  and 
flowed  in  that  face.  But  alas  !  its  response  was  to  the  stormy 
heaven  alone,  not  to  the  stormy  human  soul.  As  the  earth 
answers  the  heaven  with  lightning  of  her  own,  so  Kate,  her- 
■^  self  a  woman-storm,  responded  to  the  elemental  cry. 

Her  shawl  had  fallen  back,  and  he  saw  a  white  arm  uplifted, 
bare  to  the  shoulder,  gleaming  through  the  night,  and  an  eye 
flashing  through  the  flood  that  fllled  it.    He  could  not  mistake 

17 


258  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

hev  passion.  He  knew  that  it  was  not  for  him  ;  that  she 
was  a  harp  played  upon  by  the  elements ;  yet,  passioned  still 
more  with  her  passion,  he  cried  aloud, 

"  Oh,  Kate !   if  you  do  not  love  me  1  shall  die." 

Kate  started,  and  sought  to  take  her  hand  from  his,  but 
she  could  not. 
•  "  Let  me  go,  Alec,"  she  said,  pleadingly. 

His  fingers  relaxed,  and  she  sped  into  the  house  like  a 
bird,  leaving  him  standing  in  the  night. 

There  was  no  more  lightning.  The  rain  fell  heavy  and 
persistent.  The  wind  rose.  And  when  the  dawn  came,  the 
clouds  were  drifting  over  the  sky;  and  the  day  was  a  wet 
gray  fringy  mass  of  wind  and  rain  and  cloud,  tossing  trees, 
and  corn  hard  bested. 

He  rose  and  dragged  himself  away.  He  had  thrown  him- 
self upon  the  grass,  and  had  burned  there  till  his  exhausted 
feelings  lay  like  smouldering  fire  under  the  pale  ashes  of  the 
dawn. 

When  Kate  made  her  appearance  at  breakfast  she  looked 
bright  and  cold.  She  had  told  his  mother  about  last  night, 
though  how  much  he  could  only  guess.  "When  he  asked  her 
whether  he  might  not  read  to  her,  she  only  said, 

"If  you  like." 

Whereupon  he  did  not  like. 

It  was  a  dreary  day.  He  crept  about  the  house  like  a 
child  in  disgrace,  and  the  darkness  seemed  an  age  in  coming. 
When  the  caudles  were  brought,  he  Avent  to  bed;  and  when 
his  mother  went  up,  she  found  him  asleep,  but  feverish. 
When  he  woke  he  was  delirious. 

For  a  week  there  was  nothing  but  wet  and  windy  weather. 
Alec  was  in  bed.  Kate  was  unhappy.  Mrs  Forbes  was 
anxious. 

The  corn  was  badly  lodged.  Patches  lay  prone,  tangled, 
spiky,  and  rough  ;  and  it  was  evident  that  if  sunshine,  strong, 
healthy  sunshine,  did  not  soon  break  out,  the  wretched  moon- 
calf-prediction of  Murdoch  Malison  would  come  true,  for  the 
corn,  instead  of  ripening,  wo^ild  start  a  fresh  growth,  and  the 
harvest  would  be  a  very  bad  one  indeed,  whether  the  people 
of  Grlamerton  repented  or  not. 

But  after  a  grievous  week,  that  blessed  sunshine  did  come. 
The  corn  rose  up  from  its  low  estate,  looked  at  the  sun, 
gathered  heart,  and  began  to  ripen  diligently. 

But  Alec  was  very  ill,  and  did  not  see  Kate  for  weeks. 

Through  his  wanderings — so  strangely  does  the  tliousand 
times  o'erwritten  palimpsest  of  the  brain  befool  the  mind  and 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOVVGLEN.  259 

even  the  passions  by  tlie  redawning  of  old  traces — lie  talked 
on  about  Annie  and  their  schooldays  with  Mr  Malison,  and 
never  mentioned  Kate. 

Annie  went  often  to  inquire  after  him,  and  Mrs  Forbes 
behaved  to  her  with  her  old  kindness — just  a  little  diluted  by 
anxiety  and  the  possession  of  Kate. 

"When  Annie  thouglit  with  herself  what  she  could  do  for 
him,  she  could  never  think  of  anything  except  saying  sangs  to 
him.  But  the  time  for  that  was  long  gone  by.  So,  like  many 
other  devotions,  hers  found  no  outlet  but  m  asking  how  he 
was. 

At  length,  one  day,  he  was  brought  down  to  the  dining- 
room  and  laid  upon  the  sofa.  Then  for  the  first  time  since 
liis  illness  he  saw  Kate.  He  looked  in  her  face  pitifully  and 
kissed  her  hand.  She  put  her  face  down  to  his.  The  blood 
surged  up  into  his  cheek,  and  the  light  into  his  eyes,  and  he 
murmured : 

'■  That  is  worth  being  ill  for,  Kate.  I  would  be  ill  again 
for  that." 

She  could  only  say  hush,  and  then  kiss  him  again,  lest  he 
should  be  hurt,  thinking  with  a  soundless  sigh : 

"  I  shall  be  forced  to  marry  him  some  day." 

And  he  was  neither  her  own  virgin-born  ideal ;  nor  had 
his  presence  the  power  to  beget  another  and  truer  ideal  in 
her  brain. 

From  that  day  he  made  rapid  progress.  Kate  would  read 
to  him  for  hours ;  and  when  for  love  and  weakness — an  ill- 
matched  pair — he  could  not  look  in  her  face  any  more,  he 
would  yet  lie  and  listen,  till  her  voice  filled  him  with  repose, 
and  he  slept  in  music. 


CHAPTEE  LVIII. 


On  the  Monday  morning  after  his  terrible  failure  Mr 
Malison  felt  almost  too  ill  to  go  to  the  school.  But  he  knew 
that  if  he  gave  in  he  must  leave  the  place.  And  he  had  a 
good  deal  of  that  courage  which  enables  a  man  to  front  the 
inevitable,  and  reap,  against  his  liking,  the  benefits  that 
s])ring  from  every  fate  steadfastly  encountered.  So  he  went, 
keeping  a  calm  exterior  over  the  shame  and  mortification  that 
burned  and  writhed  within  him.      He  prayed  the  morning 


260  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

prayer,  falteriagly  but  fluently ;  called  up  tlie  Bible-class  ; 
corrected  their  blunders  with  an  effort  over  himself  which  im- 
parted its  sternness  to  the  tone  of  the  correction  and  made 
him  seem  oblivious  of  his  own,  though  in  truth  the  hardest  task 
he  had  ever  had-was  to  find  fault  that  Monday ;  in  short,  did 
everything  as  usual,  except  bring  out  the  tag.  How  could 
he  punish  failure  who  had  himself  so  shamefully  failed  in  the 
sight  of  them  all  ?  And,  to  the  praise  of  Glamerton  be  it  re- 
corded, never  had  there  been  a  quieter  day,  one  of  less  de- 
fiance of  law,  than  that  day  of  the  master's  humiliation.  In 
the  afternoon  Andrew  Truff'ey  laid  a  splendid  bunch  of  cot- 
tage-flowers on  his  desk,  and  the  next  morning  it  was  so 
crowded  with  ofleringa  of  the  same  sort  that  he  had  quite  a 
screen  behind  which  to  conceal  his  emotion. 

"Wonderful,  let  me  say  once  more,  is  the  divine  revenge ! 
The  children  would  wipe  away  the  humiliation  of  their  tyrant. 
His  desk,  the  symbol  of  merciless  law,  the  ark  containing  no 
pot  of  manna,  only  the  rod  that  never  budded,  became  an 
altar  heaped  with  offerings,  behind  which  the  shamed  divinity 
bowed  his  head  and  acknowledged  a  power  greater  than  that 
of  stripes- — overcome  by  his  boys,  who  hated  spelling  and 
figures,  hated  yet  more  the  Shorter  Catechism,  could  hardly 
be  brought  to  read  the  book  of  Leviticus  with  decency,  and 
hated  to  make  bricks  without  straw ;  and  yet,  forgetting  it 
all,  loved  the  man  beneath  whose  lashes  they  had  writhed  in 
torture.  In  his  heart  the  master  vowed,  with  a  new  love 
whiQh  loosed  the  millstone  of  many  offences  against  the  little 
ones,  that  had  for  years  been  hanging  about  his  neck — vowed 
that,  be  the  shame  what  it  might,  he  w^ould  never  leave  them, 
but  spend  his  days  in  making  up  for  the  hardness  of  his  heart 
and  hand ;  vowed  that  he  would  himself  be  good,  and  so  make 
them  good ;  that  he  would  henceforth  be  their  friend,  and  let 
them  know  it.  Blessed  failure  ending  in  such  a  victory  ! 
Blessed  purgatorial  pulpit !  into  which  he  entered  full  of  self 
and  self-ends ;  and  from  which  he  came  down  disgusted  with 
that  ])altry  self  as  well  as  its  deserved  defeat.  Ti)e  gates  of 
its  evil  fortress  were  now  undefended,  for  Pride  had  left  them 
open  in  scorn ;  and  Love,  in  the  form  of  flower-bearing  chil- 
dren, ruslied  into  the  citadel.  The  heart  of  the  master  was 
forced  to  yield,  and  the  last  state  of  that  man  was  better  than 
the  first. 

"  Swift  Summer  into  tlie  Autumn  flowed,"  and  yet  there 
was  no  sign  of  the  coming  vengeance  of  heaven.  The  green 
corurturned  pale  at  last  before  the  gaze  of  the  sun.  The  life 
within  had  done  its  best  and  now  shrunk  back  to  the  earth, 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  261 

leaving  the  isolated  life  of  its  cliildren  to  the  ripening  of  the 
heavens.  Anxious  farmers  watched  their  fields,  and  joyfully 
noted  every  shade  of  progress.  All  day  the  sun  shone 
strong ;  and  all  night  the  moon  leaned  down  from  heaven  to 
see  how  things  were  going  on,  and  keep  the  work  gently 
moving,  till  the  sun  should  return  to  take  it  up  again.  Be- 
fore he  came,  a  shadowy  frost  would  just  breathe  on  the  earth, 
which,  although  there  was  only  death  in  its  chill,  yet  furthered 
the  goings  on  of  life  in  repelling  the  now  useless  sap,  and  so 
helping  the  sun  to  dry  the  ripening  ears.  At  length  the  new 
revelation  of  ancient  life  was  complete,  and  the  corn  stood  in 
living  gold,  and  men  began  to  put  in  the  sickle,  because  the 
time  of  the  harvest  was  come. 

And  with  it  came  the  hairst-play,  the  event  of  school-life 
both  to  master  and  scholars.  But  the  feelings  with  which  the 
master  watched  and  longed  for  it  were  sadly  different  from 
those  of  the  boys.  It  was  delight  itself  to  the  latter  to  think 
of  having  nothing  to  do  on  those  glorious  hot  days  but  gather 
blaeberries,  or  lie  on  the  grass,  or  bathe  in  the  Glamour  and 
dry  themselves  in  the  sun  ten  times  a  day.  Eor  the  master, 
he  only  hoped  to  get  away  from  the  six  thousand  eyes  of 
Glamerton.  IS^ot  one  allusion  had  been  made  in  his  hearing 
to  his  dismal  degradation,  but  he  knew  that  that  was  only  be- 
cause it  was  too  dreadful  to  be  alluded  to.  Every  time  he 
passed  a  woman  with  a  baby  in  her  arms  at  a  cottage  door, 
the  blind  eyes  in  the  back  of  his  head  saw  her  cuddling  her 
child,  and  the  ears  that  are  always  hearing  what  never  was 
said,  heard  her  hope  that  he  would  never  bring  such  disgrace 
upon  himself  and  upon  her.  The  tone  of  additional  kindness 
and  consideraton  Avith  which  many  addressed  him,  only  made 
him  think  of  what  lay  behind,  and  refuse  every  invitation 
given  him.  But  if  he  were  once  "  in  secret  shadow  far  from 
all  men's  sight,"  his  oppressed  heart  would  begin  to  revive, 
and  he  might  gather  strength  enough  to  face  with  calmness 
what  he  would  continue  to  face  somehow,  in  the  performance 
of  his  arrears  of  duty  to  the  boys  and  girls  of  Glamerton. 

Can  one  ever  bring  up  arrears  of  duty  ?      Can  one  ever    ] 
make  up  for  wrong  done  ?    Will  not  heaven  be  an  endless  re- 
pentance ? 

It  would  need  a  book  to  answer  the  first  two  of  these    ; 
questions.     To  the  last  of  them  I  answer,  "  Yes — but  a  glad 
repentance."  •--- 

x\t  length  the  slow  hour  arrived.  Longing  thoughts  had 
almost  obliterated  the  figures  vipon  Time's  dial,  and  made  it 
look  a  hopeless  undivided  circle  of  eternity.      But  at  length 


262  ALEC    FORBES   OF     HOWGLFX. 

twelve  o'clock  on  Saturday  came ;  and  the  delight  would  have 
been  almost  unendurable  to  some,  had  it  not  been  calmed  by 
the  dreary  proximity  of  the  Sabbath  lying  between  them  and 
freedom.  To  add  to  their  joy,  there  was  no  catechism  that 
day.  The  prayer,  although  a  little  longer  than  usual,  was 
yet  over  within  a  minute  after  the  hour.  And  almost  as 
soon  as  the  Amen  was  out  of  the  master's  mouth,  the  first 
boys  were  shouting  jubilantly  in  the  open  air.  Truftey,  who 
was  always  the  last,  was  crutching  it  out  after  the  rest,  when 
he  heard  the  master's  voice  calling  him  back.  He  obeyed  it 
with  misgiving — so  much  had  fear  become  a  habit. 

"  Ask  your  grandfather,  Andrew,  if  he  will  allow  you  to 
go  down  to  the  seaside  with  me  for  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks," 
said  the  master. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Truffey  meant  to  say,  but  the  attempt  pro- 
duced in  reality  an  unearthly  screech  of  delight,  with  which 
he  went  off  on  a  series  of  bounds  worthy  of  a  kangaroo,  last- 
ing all  the  way  to  his  grandfather's,  and  taking  him  there  in 
half  the  usual  time. 

And  the  master  and  TruiFey  did  go  down  to  the  sea  to- 
gether. The  master  borrowed  a  gig  and  hired  a  horse  and 
driver  ;  and  they  sat  all  three  in  the  space  meant  for  two,  and 
their  boxes  went  by  the  carrier.  To  happy  Truffey  a  lame 
leg  or  two  was  not  to  be  compared  with  the  exultant  glory 
of  that  day.  Was  he  not  the  master's  friend  henceforth  ? 
And  was  he  not  riding  in  a  gig — bliss  supreme?  And  was 
not  the  harvest  around  them,  the  blue  tent  of  the  sun  over 
their  heads,  and  the  sea  somewhere  before  them  ?  Truffey 
was  prouder  than  Mr  Malison  could  have  been  if,  instead  of 
the  result  of  that  disastrous  Sunday,  he  had  been  judged  to 
surpass  Mr  Turnbull  in  pulpit  gifts,  as  he  did  in  scholastic 
acquirements.  And  if  there  be  as  much  joy  in  the  universe, 
what  matter  how  it  be  divided  ! — whether  the  master  be  raised 
from  the  desk  to  the  pulpit,  or  Truffey  have  a  ride  in  a  gig  ' 

About  this  time  Tibbie,  sitting  too  late  one  evening  upon 
the  grass,  caught  a  bad  cold  and  cough,  and  was  for  a  fortnight 
confined  to  bed.  Within  two  days  Annie  became  her  constant 
companion — that  is,  from  the  moment  tlie  ])lay  commenced. 

"  I  tell't  ye  I  wad  hae  the  licht  afore  lang,"  she  said  the 
first  time  Annie  came  to  her. 

"  Hoots,  Tibbie !  It's  only  an  ill  caud  an'  a  host,"  said 
Annie,  who  from  being  so  rhuch  with  her  and  Thomas  had 
caught  the  modes  of  an  elderly  woman.  "  Te  maunna  be 
doouhertit." 

"  Doouhertit !     The  lassie's  haverin' !     Wha  daurcd  to  say 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HO^VGLEN.  263 

that  I  was  doonliertit  within  sicht  o'  the  New  Jerusalem  ? 
Order  yer  words  better,  lassie,  or  else  haud  yer  tongue." 

"  I  beg  yer  pardon,  Tibbie.  It  was  ill-considered.  But  ye 
see  hooever  willin'  ye  may  be  to  gang,  we're  nane  sae  willin' 
to  lat  gang  the  grip  o'  ye." 

"  Te'll  be  a  hantle  better  withoot  me,  lass.  Oh,  my  held  ! 
And  the  host's  jist  like  to  rive  me  in  bits,  as  the  prophets  rave 
their  claes  whan  the  fowk  centred  them  ower  sair  to  bide. 
Aweel !  This  body's  nothing  but  a  wheen  claes  to  my  sowl ; 
and  no  verra  weel  made  either,  for  the  holes  for  my  een  war 
forgotten  i'  the  makin'. — I'm  bit  jokin',  lassie  ;  for  it  was  the 
Lord's  han'  that  made  and  mismade  my  claes  ;  and  I'm  weel 
willin'  to  wear  them  as  lang's  he  likes.  Jist  mak  a  drappy  o' 
stoorum  to  me.  Maybe  it'll  ile  my  thrapple  a  bit.  I  winna  be 
lang  ahin  Eppie  Shawn." 

That  was  the  woman  who  had  occupied  the  other  end  of  the 
cottage  and  had  died  in  the  spring. 

So  Annie  waited  on  Tibbie  day  and  night.  And  that  year, 
for  the  first  time  since  she  came  to  Glamerton,  the  harvest 
began  without  her.  But  when  Tibbie  got  a  little  better,  she 
used  to  run  out  now  and  then  to  see  what  progress  the  reapers 
were  making. 

One  bright  forenoon  Tibbie,  feeling  better,  said  to  her, 

"  Noo,  bairn,  I'm  a  hantle  better  the  day,  and  ye  maun  jist 
rin  oot  and  play  yersel'.  Ye're  but  a  bairn,  though  ye  hae  the 
wit  o'  a  wumman.  Te'll  be  laid  up  yersel'  gin  ye  dinna  get  a 
stammachfu'  o'  the  caller  air  noo  and  than.  Sae  jist  rin  awa', 
an'  dinna  lat  me  see  _ye  afore  denner-time." 

At  Howglen,  there  happened,  this  year,  to  be  a  field  of  oats 
not  far  from  the  house,  the  reaping  of  which  was  to  begin  that 
day.  It  was  very  warm,  and  glorious  with  sunshine.  So,  after 
a  few  stocks  had  been  set  up.  Alec  crawled  out  with  the  help 
of  his  mother  and  Kate,  and  lay  do\\n  on  some  sheaves, 
sheltered  from  the  sun  by  a  stook,  and  watched.  The  men  and 
women  and  corn  leaned  all  one  way.  The  oats  hung  their 
curved  heads  of  little  pendulous  bells,  and  gave  out  a  low 
murmuring  sibilation — its  only  lament  that  its  day  was  over, 
and  sun  and  wind  no  more  for  it.  Through  the  high  stalks 
gleamed  now  and  tlien  the  lowly  corn  flower,  and  he  watched 
for  the  next  blue  star  that  would  shine  out  as  they  cut  the 
golden  cloud  away.  But  the  sun  rose  till  the  stook  could 
shelter  him  no  more.  First  came  a  flickering  of  the  shadows 
of  the  longest  heads  athwart  his  face,  and  then  the  sun  shone 
full  upon  him.  His  mother  and  Kate  had  left  him  for  awhile, 
and,  too  weak  or  too  lazy  to  move,  he  lay  with  closed  eyes, 


26-i  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

wishing  that  some  oue  would  come  to  his  help.  Nor  had  he  to 
wait  long.  A  sudden  shadow  came  over  him.  "When  he  looked 
up  to  find  the  source  of  the  grateful  relief,  he  could  see  nothing 
but  an  apron  held  up  in  two  little  hands  behind  the  stook — 
hiding  both  the  sun  and  the  face  of  the  helper. 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  me — Annie  Anderson,"  came  from  behind  the  un- 
moving  apron. 

Now  why  would  not  Alec  accept  tins  attention  from 
Annie  ? 

"  Dinna  stan'  there,  Annie,"  he  said.  "I  dinna  want  it. 
My  mother  will  be  here  in  a  minute.     I  see  her  comin'." 

Annie  dropped  her  arms,  and  turned  away  in  silence.  If 
Alec  could  have  seen  her  face,  he  would  have  been  sorry  that 
he  had  refused  her  service.  She  vanished  in  a  moment,  so  that 
Mrs  Forbes  and  Kate  never  saw  her.  They  sat  down  beside 
him  so  as  to  shelter  him,  and  he  fell  fast  asleep.  "When  he 
woke,  he  found  his  head  in  Kate's  lap,  and  her  parasol  casting 
a  cool  green  shadow  over  him.  His  mother  had  gone  again. 
Having  made  these  discoveries,  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  pretend- 
ing to  be  still  asleep,  lay  in  a  waking  dream.  But  dreams 
themselves  must  come  to  an  end.  Kate  soon  saw  that  his  face 
was  awake,  although  his  eyes  were  closed. 

"  I  think  it  is  time  we  went  into  the  house,  Alec,"  she 
said.     "  Tou  have  been  asleep  nearly  an  hour." 

"  Happy  so  long,  and  not  know  it  ?  "  returned  he,  looking 
up  at  her  from  where  he  lay. 

Kate  blushed  a  little.  I  think  she  began  to  feel  tliat  he 
was  not  quite  a  boy.  But  he  obeyed  her  like  a  child,  and  they 
went  in  together. 

"When  Annie  vanished  among  the  stooks  after  the  rejection 
of  her  offered  shadow,  a  throbbing  pain  at  her  heart  kept  her 
from  returning  to  the  reapers.  She  wandei-ed  away  up  tlie 
field  towards  a  little  old  cottage,  in  which  some  of  the  farm 
servants  resided.  She  knew  that  Thomas  Crann  was  at  work 
there,  and  found  him  busy  rough-casting  the  outside  of  it. 

"  Te're  busy  harlin',  Thomas,"  said  Annie,  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something. 

"  Ay,  jist  helpin'  to  mak'  a  heepocreet,"  answered  Thomas, 
with  a  nod  and  a  grim  smile,  as  he  threw  a  trowelful  of  mortar 
mixed  with  small  pebbles  against  the  wall. 

"  "What  mean  ye  by  that  ?  "  rejoined  Annie. 

"  Gin  ye  kent  tliia  auld  bothie  as  weel  as  I  do,  ye  wadna 
need  to  spier  that  question.  It  sud  hae  been  pu'ed  doon  fra 
the  riggin  to  the  limdation  a  century  afore  noo.     And  hero 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEX.  265 

^ve're  pittin  a  c  ean  face  upo'  \,  garrin'  't  hiik  as  gin  it  micht 
Stan'  anitlier  century,  and  nobody  bad  a  ricbt  to  luik  asclent 
at  it." 

"  It  luiks  weel  eneucb." 

"  I  tell't  ye  that  I  was  makin'  a  beepocroet.  Tbere's  no  a 
sowl  wants  tbis  boose  to  stan'  but  tbe  mistress  doon  there, 
that  doesua  want  to  waur  the  siller,  and  tbe  rottans  inside  the 
wa's  o'  't,  that  doesna  want  to  fa'  into  tbe  cluiks  o'  Bawdrins 
and  Colley — wha  lie  in  wait  for  sic  like  jist  as  tbe  deevil  does 
for  tlie  sowl  o'  tbe  beepocreet. — Come  oot  o'  tbe  sun,  lassie. 
Tbis  auld  boose  is  no  a'tbegitber  a  beepocreet :  it  can  baud  tbe 
sun  aff  o'  ye  yet." 

Thomas  bad  seen  Annie  holding  her  band  to  her  head,  an 
action  occasioned  partly  by  tbe  beat  and  partly  by  tbe  rebuif 
Alec  had  given  her.     She  stepped  into  the  shadow  beside  him. 

"  Isna  the  warl'  fu'  o'  bonnie  things  cheap  ? "  Thomas 
went  on.  "  The  sun's  fine  and  bet  the  day.  And  syne  whan 
he's  mair  nor  we  can  bide,  there's  lots  o'  sbaidows  lyin'  aboot 
upo'  the  face  o'  tbe  warl'  ;  though  they  say  there's  some  coun- 
tries wbaur  they're  scarce,  and  the  shaidow  o'  a  great  rock's 
thought  something  o'  in  a  weary  Ian'  ?  But  we  sudna  think 
less  o'  a  thing  'cause  there's  plenty  o'  't  We  bae  a  heap  o' 
the  gospel,  but  we  dinna  think  the  less  o'  't  for  that.  Because 
ye  see  it's  no  whether  sbaidows  be  dear  or  no  that  we  think 
muckle  or  little  o'  them,  but  whether  we  be  ricbt  bet  and  tired 
whan  we  win  till  ane  o'  them.     It's  that  'at  maks  tbe  differ." 

Sorrow  herself  will  reveal  one  day  that  she  was  only  the 
beneficent  shadow  of  Joy. 

Will  Evil  ever  show  herself  the  beneficent  shadow  of 
Good? 

"  Wbaur  got  Robert  Bruce  that  gran'  Bible,  Annie,  do  ye 
ken  ? "  resumed  Thomas,  after  whitening  bis  hypocrite  in 
silence  for  a  few  moments. 

"  That's  my  Bible,  Thomas.  Auld  Mr  Cowie  gae't  to  me 
whan  he  was  lyin'  near-ban'  deith." 

"  Hm  !  hm  !  ay  !  ay  !  And  boo  cam'  't  that  ye  didna  tak' 
it  and  pit  it  i'  yer  ain  kist  ?  " 

"Maister  Bruce  tuik  it  and  laid  it  i'  the  room  as  sune's  I 
brocht  it  bame." 

"  Did  Maister  Cowie  say  onything  to  ye  aboot  onything 
that  was  in't,  no  ?  " 

"  Ay,  did  he.  He  spak'  o'  a  five-poun'  note  that  be  had 
pitten  in't.     But  whan  I  luikit  for't,  I  cudna  fin'  't." 

"  Ay  !  ay  !     Whan  did  ye  luik  for't  ?  " 

"  I  forgot  it  for  twa  or  three  days — maybe  a  week." 


266  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Do  ye  miu'  that  Sunday  nicht  that  twa  or  three  o'  's  cam 
hame  wi'  Bruce,  and  had  worship  wi'  him  an'  you  ?  " 

"Ay,  weel  eneuch.  It  was  the  first  time  he  read  oot  o' 
my  Bible." 

"  Was't  afore  or  efter  that  'at  ye  luikit  for  the  nott  ?  " 

"  It  was  the  neist  day ;  for  the  sicht  o'  the  Bible  pat  it  i' 
my  min'.  I  oughtna  to  hae  thocht  aboot  it  o'  the  Sawbath ; 
but  it  cam'  o'  'tsel' ;  and  I  didna  luik  till  the  Mononday 
morniu',  afore  they  war  up.  I  reckon  Mr  Cowie  forgot  to  pit 
it  in  efter  a'." 

"  Hm  !  hm  !  Ay  !  ay  !— Weel,  ye  see,  riches  taks  to  them- 
sels  wings  and  flees  awa'  ;  and  sae  we  maunna  set  oor  herts 
npo'  them,  for  it's  no  manner  o'  use.  We  get  nothing  by  't. 
The  warst  bank  that  a  man  can  lay  up  his  siller  in  is  his  ain 
hert.  And  I'll  tell  ye  hoo  that  is.  Ye  ken  whan  meal's  laid 
up  ower  lang  it  breeds  worms,  and  they  eat  the  meal.  But 
they  do  little  hairm  forbye,  for  they're  saft  craters,  and  their 
teeth  canna  do  muckle  ill  to  the  girnell.  But  there's  a  kin'  o' 
roost  that  gathers  and  a  kin'  o'  moth  that  breeds  i'  the  gowd 
and  siller  whan  they're  laid  up  i'  the  hert ;  and  the  roost's  an 
awfu'  thing  for  eatin'  awa',  and  the  moth-craters  hae  teeth  as 
hard's  the  siller  that  breeds  them  ;  and  instead  o'  eatin'  the 
siller,  like  the  meal-worms,  they  fa'  upo'  the  girnel  itsel' — that's 
the  heart ;  and  afore  lang  the  hert  itsel's  roostit  awa'  wi'  the 
roost,  and  riddlet  through  and  through  wi'  the  moths,  till  it's  a 
naisty  fushionless  thing,  o'  no  use  to  Grod  or  man,  not  even  to 
mak'  muck  o'.     Sic  a  crater's  hardly  worth  damnin'." 

And  Thomas  threw  trowelful  after  trowelful  of  rough-cast 
upon  the  wall,  making  his  hypocrite  in  all  the  composure  of 
holy  thoughts.  And  Annie  forgot  her  trouble  in  his  presence. 
For  Thomas  was  one  of  those  whom  the  prophet  foresaw  when 
he  said  :  "  And  a  man  shall  be  as  an  hiding-place  from  the 
wind,  and  a  covert  from  the  tempest ;  as  rivers  of  water  in  a 
dry  place,  as  a  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land."  1  do 
not  mean  that  Thomas  was  felt  to  be  such  by  all  whom  he 
encountered ;  for  his  ambition  was  to  rouse  men  from  the 
sleep  of  sin  ;  to  set  them  face  to  fiice  with  the  terrors  of  Mount 
Sinai ;  to  "  shak'  them  ower  the  mou'  o'  the  pit,"  till  they  were 
all  but  choked  with  the  fumes  of  the  brimstone.  But  he  was  a 
shelter  to  Annie — and  to  Tibbie  also,  although  she  and  he  were 
too  much  of  a  sort  to  appear  to  the  best  advantage  in  their 
intercourse. 

"  Hoo's  Tibbie  the  day  ?  "  said  Thomas. 

"  She's  a  wee  bit  better  the  day,"  answered  Annie. 

"  It's  a  great  preevileege,  lassie,  and  ane  that  ye'U  hae  to 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN,  267 

answer  for,  to  be  sae  muckle  wi'  ane  o'  the  Lord's  elec'  as  ye 
are  wi'  Tibbie  Dyster.  She's  some  thrawn  {twisted)  whiles, 
but  she's  a  good  honest  woman,  wha  has  the  glory  o'  God  sair 
at  her  hert.  And  she's  tellt  me  my  duty  and  my  sins  in  a 
mainner  worthy  o'  Debohrah  the  prophetess ;  and  I  aye  set 
niysel'  to  owercome  them  as  gin  they  had  been  the  airmy  o' 
Sisera,  wham  Jael,  the  wife  o'  Heber,  the  Kenite,  killed  eftera 
weel-deserved  but  some  cooardly  faushion." 

Annie  did  not  return  to  the  harvest-field  that  day.  She 
did  not  want  to  go  near  Alec  again.  So,  after  lingering  a  while 
with  Thomas,  she  wandered  slowly  across  some  fields  of  barley- 
stubble  through  which  the  fresh  young  clover  was  already 
spreading  its  soft  green.  She  then  went  over  the  Glamour  by 
the  bridge  with  the  three  arches,  down  the  path  at  the  other 
end,  over  the  single  great  stone  that  crossed  the  dyer's  dam, 
and  so  into  Tibbie's  cottage. 

Had  Annie  been  Eobert  Bruce's  own,  she  would  have  had 
to  mind  the  baby,  to  do  part  of  the  house  work,  and,  being  a 
wise  child,  to  attend  in  the  shop  during  meals,  and  so  expedite 
the  feeding-process  which  followed  the  grace.  But  Robert 
Bruce  was  ignorant  of  how  little  Annie  knew  about  the  invest- 
ment of  her  property.  He  took  her  freedom  of  action  for  the 
result  of  the  knowledge  that  she  paid  her  way,  whereas  Annie 
followed  her  own  impulse,  and  never  thought  about  the  >matter. 
Indeed,  with  the  reticence  of  Scotch  people,  none  of  her  friends 
had  given  her  any  information  about  her  little  fortune.  Had 
Bruce  known  this,  there  would  have  been  no  work  too  constant 
for  her,  and  no  liberty  too  small. 

Thomas  did  not  doubt  that  Eobert  Bruce  had  stolen  the 
note.  But  he  did  not  see  yet  what  he  ought  to  do  about  it. 
The  thing  would  be  hard  to  prove,  and  the  man  who  would 
steal  would  lie.  But  he  bitterly  regretted  that  such  a  man 
should  have  found  his  way  into  their  communion. 


CHAPTER  LIX 


At  length  the  corn  was  gathered  in,  all  over  the  valley  of 
the  two  rivers.  The  wool  of  the  sheep  grows  again  after  they 
are  shorn,  to  keep  them  warm  in  the  winter :  when  the  dry 
stubble  sticks  up  short  and  bristly  over  the  fields,  to  keep 
them  warm  "He  scattereth  his  snows  like  wool." 

The  master  returned  from  the  sea-coast,  bringing  Truff"ey 


268  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

with  liim,  radiant    with  life.     Notliiug  could  lengthen  that 
shrunken  limb,  but  in  the  other  and  the  crutch  together  he 
had  more  than  the  function  of  two. 
And  the  master  was  his  idol. 

And  the  master  was  a  happier  man.  The  scene  of  his  late 
failure  had  begun  to  fade  a  little  from  his  brain.  The  expanse 
of  the  church  and  the  waiting  people  was  no  longer  a  vision 
certain  to  arise  in  the  darkness  that  surrounds  sleep.  He  had 
been  loving  and  helping ;  and  love  and  help  had  turned  into 
a  great  joy,  whose  tide  washed  from  out  his  heart  the  bitter- 
ness of  his  remembered  sin.  When  we  love  truly,  all  oppres- 
sion of  past  sin  will  be  swept  away.  Love  is  the  final 
atonement,  of  which  and  for  which  the  sacrifice  of  the 
atonement  was  made.  And  till  this  atonement  is  made  in 
every  man,  sin  holds  its  own,  and  God  is  not  all  in  all. 

So  the  earth  and  all  that  was  therein  did  the  master  good. 
And  he  came  back  able  to  look  people  in  the  face — humble 
still,  but  no  longer  humiliated.  And  when  the  children 
gathered  once  more  on  a  Monda}"  morning,  with  the  sad  feeling 
that  the  holidays  were  over,  the  master's  prayer  was  difi"ercnt 
from  what  it  used  to  be,  and  the  work  was  less  irksome  than 
before,  and  school  was  not  so  very  hateful  after  all.  Even  the 
Shorter  Catechism  was  not  the  instrument  of  torture  which  it 
had  been  wont  to  be.  The  cords  of  the  rack  were  not  strained 
so  tight  as  heretofore. 

But  the  cool  bright  mornings,  and  the  frosty  evenings, 
with  the  pale  green  sky  after  sundown,  spoke  to  the  heart  of 
Alee  of  a  coming  loss.  Not  that  Kate  had  ever  sliown  that 
she  loved  him,  so  that  he  even  felt  a  restless  trouble  in  her 
presence  which  had  not  been  favourable  to  his  recovery.  Tet 
as  he  lay  in  the  gloaming,  and  watched  those  crows  flj'ing 
home,  they  seemed  to  be  bearing  something  away  with  them 
on  their  black  wings ;  and  as  the  light  sank  and  paled  on  the 
horizon,  and  the  stars  began  to  condense  themselves  into 
sparks  amid  the  sea  of  green,  like  those  that  fleet  phos- 
phorescent when  the  prow  of  the  vessel  troubles  the  summer 
sea,  and  then  the  falling  stars  of  September  shot  across  the 
darkening  sky,  he  felt  that  a  change  was  near,  that  for  him 
winter  was  coming  before  its  time.  And  the  trees  saw  from 
their  liigh  watcli-tower  the  white  robe  of  winter  already  drift- 
ing up  above  the  far  horizon  on  the  wind  that  followed  his 
footstejis,  and  knew  what  that  wind  would  be  when  it  howled 
tormenting  over  those  naked  fields.  So  their  leaves  tui'ned 
yellow  and  gray,  and  the  frosty  red  of  age  was  fixed  upon 
them,  and  they  fell,  and  lay. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  269 

On  one  of  those  bright  mornings,  which  make  the  head 
feel  so  clear,  the  limbs  so  strong,  and  the  heart  so  sad,  the 
doom  fell  in  the  expected  form,  that  of  a  letter  from  the  Pro- 
fessor. He  was  at  home  at  last,  and  wanted  his  niece  to  mix 
his  toddy,  and  scold  his  servants  for  him,  from  both  of  which 
enjoyments  he  said  he  desired  to  wean  himself  in  time.  Alec's 
heart  sank  within  him. 

"  Don't  go  yet,  Kate,"  he  said.  But  he  felt  that  she 
must  go. 

An  early  day  was  fixed  for  her  return ;  and  his  summer 
would  go  with  her. 

The  day  before  her  departure  they  were  walking  together 
along  one  of  the  rough  parish-roads  leading  to  the  hills. 

"  Oh,  Kate !  "  exclaimed  Alec,  all  at  once,  in  an  outburst  of 
despair,  "  what  shall  I  do  when  you  are  gone  ?  Everything 
will  look  so  hateful !  " 

"  Oh,  Alee  !  "  rejoined  Kate,  in  a  tone  of  expostulation. 

"  They  will  all  look  the  same  as  if  you  had  not  gone 
away  ! — so  heartless,  so  selfish!" 

"  But  I  shall  see  you  in  November  again." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Tou  will  see  me.  But  shall  I  see  you  ? — this 
very  you  ?  Oh,  Kate !  Kate !  I  feel  that  you  will  be  dif- 
ferent then.  Tou  will  not  look  at  me  as  you  do  now.  Tou  are 
kind  to  me  because  I  have  been  ill.  Tou  pity  me  for  my 
white  face.  It  is  very  good  of  you.  But  tvon't  you  love  me, 
Kate  ?  I  don't  deserve  it.  But  I've  read  so  often  of  beauti- 
ful women  loving  men  who  did  not  deserve  it.  Perhaps  I 
may  be  worthy  of  it  some  day.  And  by  that  time  you  will 
have  loved  somebody  else  !  " 

He  turned  involuntarily,  and  walked  towards  home.  He 
recovered  himself  instantly,  however,  and  returning  put  his 
hand  on  Kate's  arm,  who  Avas  frightened  and  anxious.  Like 
a  child  praying  to  his  mother,  he  repeated  : 

"  Won't  you  love  me,  Kate? — Just  a  little? — How  can  I 
go  into  that  room  after  you  are  gone — and  all  your  things  out 
of  it?  I  am  not  good  enough  ever  to  sleep  there  again. 
Won't  you  love  me,  Kate  ?     A  little  ?  " 

"  I  do  love  you  dearly.  Tou  know  that.  Alec.  Why  do 
you  always  press  me  to  say  more  ?  " 

"  Because  I  do  not  like  the  way  you  say  it." 

"Tou  want  me  to  speak  your  way,  not  my  own,  and  be  a 
hypocrite  ?  " 

"  Kate  !  Kate!  I  understand  you  too  well." 

They  walked  home  in  silence. 

Now,  although  this  was  sad  enough  for  Alec,  yet  tnere  was 


270  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

room  for  hope.  But  she  was  going  away,  aud  he  would  not 
know  what  she  was  doing  or  thinking.  It  w^as  as  if  she  were 
going  to  die.  Nor  was  that  all ; — for — to  misuse  the  quotation — 

"  For,  in  that  sleep  of  death,  what  dreams  might  come  !  " 

She  might  dream  of  some  one,  love  some  one — yes,  marry  some 
one,  and  so  drive  him  mad. 

When  the  last  night  arrived,  he  followed  her  up-stairs,  and 
knocked  at  her  room  door,  to  see  her  once  again,  and  make  one 
more  appeal.  Now  an  appeal  has  only  to  do  with  justice  or 
pity.  AYith  love  it  is  of  no  use.  "With  love  it  is  as  unavailing 
as  wisdom  or  gold  or  beauty.     But  no  lover  believes  this. 

There  was  no  answer  to  the  first,  the  inarticulate  appeal. 
He  lost  his  courage,  and  dared  not  knock  again ;  and  while 
Kate  was  standing  with  her  head  on  one  side,  and  her  dress 
half  off,  wondering  if  any  one  had  knocked,  he  crept  away  to 
his  bed  ashamed.  There  was  only  a  partition  of  lath  and 
plaster  between  the  two,  neither  of  whom  could  sleep,  but 
neither  of  whom  could  have  given  the  other  any  comfort. 
Not  even  another  thunder-storm  could  have  brought  them  to- 
gether again  that  night. 

At  length  the  pitiless  dawn,  which  unll  come,  awoke  Alec, 
and  he  saw  the  last  few  aged  stars  wither  away  as  the  great 
young  star  came  up  the  hill,  the  despot  who,  crowned  with  day, 
drives  men  up  and  abroad,  be  the  weather,  inside  or  out,  what 
it  may.     It  was  the  dreariest  dawn  Alec  had  ever  known. 

Kate  appeared  at  breakfast  with  indescribable  signs  of  pre- 
paration about  her.  The  breakfast  was  dull  and  cheerless. 
The  autumn  sun  was  brilliant.  The  inevitable  gig  appeared  at 
the  door.  Alec  was  not  even  to  drive  it.  He  could  only  help 
ber  into  it,  kiss  her  gloved  hand  on  the  rail,  and  see  her  vanish 
behind  the  shrubbery. 

He  then  turned  in  stern  endurance,  rushed  up  into  the 
very  room  he  had  thought  it  impossible  ever  to  enter  again, 
caught  up  a  handkerchief  she  had  left  behind  her,  pressed  it 
to  his  face,  threw  himself  on  her  bed,  aud^ — well,  he  fell  fast 
asleep. 

He  woke  not  so  miserable  as  he  had  expected.  Of  this  he 
was  so  much  ashamed  that  he  tried  hard  to  make  himself  more 
miserable,  by  going  over  all  the  miseries  in  store  for  him.  But 
his  thoughts  would  not  obey  him.  They  would  take  their  own 
way,  fly  where  they  pleased,  and  alight  where  they  would. 
And  the  meeting  in  November  was  the  most  attractive  object 
in  sight. — So  easily  is  Hope  born,  when  the  time  of  her  birth 
is  come  I 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  271 

.  But  lie  soon  found  that  Grief  is  like  some  maidens :  she 
will  not  come  when  she  is  called  ;  but  if  you  leave  her  alone, 
she  will  come  of  herself.  Before  the  day  was  over  he  had 
sacrificed  griefs  enough  upon  the  altar  of  Love.  All  at  once 
the  whole  vacant  region  rushed  iu  upon  him  with  a  ghostly 
sense  of  emptiness  and  desolation.  He  wandered  about  the 
dreary  house  like  a  phantom  about  a  cenotaph.  The  flowers 
having  nothing  to  say,  because  they  had  ceased  to  mean  any- 
thing, looked  ashamed  of  themselves.  The  sunshine  was  hast- . 
ening  to  have  done  with  it,  and  let  the  winter  come  as  soon 
as  he  liked,  for  there  was  no  more  use  in  shining  like  this. 
And  Alec  being  in  love,  could  feel  all  this,  although  he  had  not 
much  imagination.  For  the  poetic  element  has  its  share  in  the 
most  common  pug-faced  man  in  creation  ;  and  when  he  is  in 
love,  what  of  that  sort  there  is  in  him,  as  well  as  what  there  is 
of  any  sort  of  good  thing,  will  come  to  the  surface,  as  the  trout 
do  in  the  balmy  summer  evenings.  Therefore  let  every  gentle 
maiden  be  warned  how  she  takes  such  a  manifestation  of  what 
is  in  the  man  for  the  man  himself.  It  is  the  deepest,  it  is  the 
best  in  him,  but  it  may  not  be  in  the  least  his  own  yet.  It  is 
one  thing  to  have  a  mine  of  gold  iu  one's  ground,  know  it,  and 
work  it ;  and  another  to  have  the  mine  still  but  regard  the 
story  as  a  fable,  throw  the  aureal  hints  that  find  their  way  to 
the  surface  as  playthings  to  the  woman  who  herself  is  but  a 
plaything  in  the  owner's  eyes,  and  mock  her  when  she  takes 
them  for  precious.  In  a  word,  every  man  in  love  shows  better 
than  he  is,  though,  thank  God,  not  better  than  he  is  meant  to 
become. 

After  Kate's  departure.  Alec's  health  improved  much  more 
rapidly.  Hope,  supplied  by  his  own  heart,  was  the  sunlight  iu 
which  he  revived.  He  had  one  advantage  over  some  lovers — 
that  he  was  no  metaphysician.  He  did  not  torture  himself 
with  vain  attempts  to  hold  his  brain  as  a  mirror  to  his  heart, 
that  he  might  read  his  heart  there.  The  heart  is  deaf  and 
dumb  and  blind,  but  it  has  more  in  it — more  life  and  blessed- 
ness, more  torture  and  death — than  any  poor  knowledge-ma- 
chine of  a  brain  can  understand,  or  even  delude  itself  into  the 
fancy  of  understanding. 

From  the  first,  Kate's  presence  had  not  been  favourable  to 
his  recovery,  irrespectively  of  the  excitement  and  restlessness 
which  it  occasioned  ;  for  she  was  an  absorbent  rather  than  a 
difiuser  of  life.  Her  own  unsatisfied  nature,  her  excitableness, 
her  openness  to  all  influences  from  the  external  world,  and  her 
incapacity  for  supplying  her  needs  in  any  approximate  degree 
from  inward  resources ;  her  consequent  changeableness,  moodi- 


272  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

ness,  and  dependency — were  all  unfavourable  influences  upon 
an  invalid  who  loved  her. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  superintend  the  painting  and 
laying  up  of  his  boat  for  the  winter.  It  was  placed  across  the 
rafters  of  the  barn,  wrapt  in  tarpaulin. 

The  light  grew  shorter  and  shorter.  A  few  rough  rainy 
days  stripped  the  trees  of  their  foliage ;  and  although  the  sun 
shone  out  again  and  made  lovely  weather, 

Saint  Martin's  summer,  halcyon  days, 

]t  was  plain  to  all  the  senses  that  the  autumn  was  drawing  to 
a  close. 


CHAPTEE  LX. 


All  the  prophetic  rumours  of  a  bad  harvest  had  proved 
themselves  false.  Never  a  better  harvest  had  been  gathered 
in  the  strath,  nor  had  one  ever  been  carried  home  in  superior 
condition.  But  the  passion  for  prophecy  had  not  abated  in 
Glamerton.  It  was  a  spiritual  epidemic  over  the  whole  dis- 
trict. 

Now  a  certain  wily  pedler  had  turned  the  matter  over  and 
resolved  to  make  something  of  it. 

One  day  there  appeai'ed  in  the  streets  of  Glamertou  a  man 
carrying  in  his  hand  a  bundle  of  papers  as  a  sample  of  what 
he  had  in  the  pack  upon  his  shoulders.  He  bore  a  burden 
of  wrath.  They  were  all  hymns  and  ballads  of  a  minacious 
description,  now  one  and  now  another  of  which  he  kept  re- 
peating in  lugubrious  recitative.  Amongst  them  some  of 
Watts's,  quite  unknown  to  Glamertou  worshippers,  carried  the 
palm  of  horror.  But  there  were  others  which  equalled  them 
in  absurdity,  although  their  most  ludicrous  portions  affected 
the  populace  only  as  a  powerful  realization  of  the  vague  and 
awful.     One  of  these  had  the  following  stanzas  : 

"  The  dragon's  tail  shall  be  the  wliip 

Of  scorpions  foretold, 
With  which  to  lash  them  thigh  and  hip 

That  wander  from  the  fold. 
And  when  their  wool  is  burnt  away — 

Tlu'ir  garments  gay,  I  mean — 
Then  tliis  same  wliip  they'll  feel,  I  say, 

Upon  their  naked  skin." 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX.  Zla 

The  probability  seems  to  be  tbat,  besides  collecting  from 
all  sources  known  to  bim,  the  pedler  had  hired  an  able  artist 
for  the  production  of  original  poems  of  commination.  His 
scheme  succeeded;  for  great  was  the  sale  of  these  hymns  and 
ballads  at  a  halfpenny  a  piece  in  the  streets  of  Grla-mertou. 
Even  those  who  bought  to  laugh,  could  not  help  feeling  an 
occasional  anticipatory  sting  of  which,  being  sermon-seared, 
they  were  never  conscious  under  pulpit  denunciation. 

The  pedler  having  emptied  his  wallet — not  like  that  of 
Chaucer's  Pardoner, 

"  Bretful  of  pardon  brought  from  Rome  all  hot," 

but  crammed  with  damnation  brought  all  hot  from  a  different 
place — vanished  ;  and  another  wonder  appeared  in  the  streets 
of  Grlamerton — a  man  who  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  borrowing 
the  cry  of  the  ill-tempered  prophet :  "  Yet  forty  days,  and 
Grlamerton  shall  be  destroyed." 

This  cry  he  repeated  at  awful  intervals  of  about  a  minute, 
walking  slowly  through  every  street,  lane,  and  close  of  the 
town.  The  children  followed  him  in  staring  silence ;  the 
women  gazed  from  their  doors  in  awe  as  he  passed.  The  in- 
sanity which  gleamed  in  his  eyes,  and  his  pale  long-drawn 
countenance,  heightened  the  efiect  of  the  terrible  prediction. 
His  belief  took  theirs  by  storm. 

The  men  smiled  to  each  other,  but  could  not  keep  it  up  in 
the  presence  of  their  wives  and  sisters.  They  said  truly  that 
he  was  only  a  madman.  But  as  proj^hets  have  always  been 
taken  for  madmen,  so  madmen  often  pass  for  prophets ;  and 
even  Stumpin'  Steenie,  the  town-constable,  had  too  much  re- 
spect either  to  his  prophetic  claims,  or  his  lunacy,  perhaps 
both,  to  take  him  into  custody.  So  through  the  streets  of 
Glamerton  he  went  on  his  bare  feet,  with  tattered  garments, 
proclaiming  aloud  the  coming  destruction.  He  walked  in  the 
middle  of  the  street,  and  turned  aside  for  nothing.  The 
coachman  of  the  Eoyal  Mail  had  to  pull  up  his  four  greys  on 
their  haunches  to  keep  them  off  the  defiant  prophet,  and  leave 
him  to  pursue  the  straight  line  of  his  mission.  The  ministers 
warned  the  people  on  the  following  Sunday  against  false  pro- 
phets, but  did  not  say  that  man  was  a  false  prophet,  while  with 
their  own  denunciations  they  went  on  all  the  same.  The 
chief  effects  of  it  all  were  excitement  and  fear.  There  Avas 
little  sign  of  repentance.  But  the  spiritual  physicians  did  not 
therefore  doubt  their  exhibition.  They  only  increased  the  dose. 
The  prophet  appeared  one  day.     He  had  vanished  the  next. 

But  within  a  few  days,  a  still  more  awful  prediction  rose, 

18 


274  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

cloud-like,  on  tlie  spiritual  sky.  A  placard  was  found  affixed 
to  the  doors  of  every  place  of  worship  in  the  town,  setting 
forth  in  large  letters  that,  according  to  certain  irrefragable 
calculations  from  "the  number  of  a  man"  and  other  such  of 
the  more  definite  utterances  of  Daniel  and  St  John,  the  day 
of  judgment  must  without  fail  fall  upon  the  next  Sunday 
week.  Whence  this  announcement  came  no  one  knew.  But 
the  truth  is,  every  one  was  willing  it  should  remain  shrouded 
in  the  mystery  congenial  to  such  things.  On  the  door  of  the 
parish-church,  it  found  an  especially  suitable  place ;  for  that, 
not  having  been  painted  for  many  years,  still  retained  the 
mourning  into  which  it  had  been  put  on  occasion  of  the  death 
of  the  great  man  of  the  neighbourhood,  the  owner  of  all 
Glamerton,  and  miles  around  it — this  mourning  consisting  of 
a  ground  of  dingy  black,  over  which  at  small  regular  distances 
had  been  painted  a  multitude  of  white  spots  with  tails,  rather 
more  like  commas  than  tadpoles,  iutended  to  represent  the  fall- 
ing tears  of  lamenting  tenants  and  humble  servants  generally. 
Curly's  grandfather  had  been  the  artist  of  the  occasion.  In 
the  middle  of  this  door  stood  the  awful  prophecy,  surrounded 
on  every  side  by  the  fall  of  the  faded  tears ;  and  for  anything 
anybody  knew,  it  might  have  been  a  supernatural  exudation 
from  the  damp  old  church,  full  of  decay  for  mauy  a  dreary 
winter.  Dreadful  places,  those  churches,  hollow  and  echoing 
all  the  week !  I  wonder  if  the  souls  of  idle  parsons  are  con- 
demned to  haunt  them,  and  that  is  what  gives  them  that  musty 
odour  and  that  exhausting  air. 

Glamerton  was  variously  affected  by  this  condensation  of 
the  vapour  of  prophecy  into  a  definite  prediction. 

"  What  think  ye  o'  't,  Thomas  Crann  ?  "  said  Andrew 
Constable.  "  The  calcleation  seems  to  be  a'  correck.  Yet 
somehoo  I  canna  believe  in't." 

"  Dinna  fash  yer  held  aboot  it,  xlnerew.  There's  a  heep 
o'  judgments  atween  this  an'  the  hinner  en'.  The  Lord'll 
come  whan  naebody's  luikin'  for  him.  And  sae  we  maun  be  aye 
ready.  Ilka  year's  an  anuo  dominy.  But  I  dinna  think  the 
man  that  made  that  calcleation  as  ye  ca'  't  's  jist  a'thegeether 
infallible.  An'  for  ae  thing,  he's  forgotten  to  mak'  allooance 
for  the  laip  years." 

"  The  day's  by,  than  !  "  exclaimed  Andrew,  in  a  tone  con- 
trasting pretty  strongly  with  his  previous  expressions  of  un- 
belief. 

"  Or  else  it's  nae  comin'  sae  sune  as  the  prophet  thoeht. 
I'm  no  clear  at  this  moment  aboot  that.  But  it's  a  sma'  niait- 
ter  that." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  275 

Andrew's  face  fell,  and  he  looked  thoughtful. 

"  Hoo  mak'  ye  that  oot  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Hoots  man !  "  answered  Thojnas  ;  "  dinna  ye  see  'at  gin 
the  man  was  cawpable  o'  makin'  sic  a  mistak's  that,  i'  the  mids 
o'  his  perfec  confidence  in  his  ain  knowledge  an'  jeedgment,  he 
cud  hardly  hae  been  intendit  by  Providence  for  an  interpreter 
o'  dark  sayings  of  old  ?  " 

Andrew  burst  into  a  laugh. 

"  Wha  cud  hae  thocht,  Thomas,  'at  ye  cud  hae  pickit  sic 
gumption  oot  o'  stanes  !  " 

And  so  they  parted,  Andrew  laughing,  and  Tliomas  with  a 
curious  smile. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 


Towards  the  middle  of  the  fo]iov\ang  week  the  sky  grew 
gloomy,  and  a  thick  small  incessant  rain  brought  the  dreariest 
weather  in  the  world.  There  was  no  wind,  and  miles  of  mist 
were  gathered  in  the  air.  After  a  day  or  two  the  heavens 
grew  lighter,  but  the  rain  fell  as  steadily  as  before,  and  in 
heavier  drops.  Still  there  was  little  rise  in  either  the  G-lamour 
or  the  "Wan  Water,  and  the  weather  could  not  be  said  to  be 
anything  but  seasonable. 

On  the  Saturday  afternoon,  weary  of  some  poor  attempts 
at  Greek  and  Latin,  weary  of  the  wretched  rain,  and  weary 
with  wishing  to  be  with  Kate,  Alec  could  stay  in  the  house  no 
longer,  and  went  out  for  a  walk.  Along  the  bank  of  the  river 
he  wandered,  through  the  rain  above  and  the  wet  grass  below, 
to  the  high  road,  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  bridge  gazing  at 
the  muddy  Glamour,  which  came  down  bank-full, — Annie  saw 
him  from  Tibbie's  window  as  he  stood, — and  then  turned  and 
followed  its  coiu'se  below  the  bridge  through  a  wild,  and  now 
dismal  country,  to  where  the  waters  met.  It  was  getting  dusk 
when  he  reached  the  place.  AVith  what  a  roar  the  Wan  Water 
came  down  its  rocks,  rushing  from  its  steeper  course  into  the ' 
slow  incline  of  the  Glamour"!  A  terrible  country  they  came 
from — those  two  ocean-bound  rivers — up  among  the  hill-tops. 
There  on  the  desolate  peat-mosses,  spongy,  black,  and  cold,  the 
rain  was  pouring  into  the  awful  holes  whence  generations  had 
dug  their  fuel,  and  into  the  natural  chasms  of  the  earth,  soak- 
ing the  soil,  and  sending  torrents,  like  the  flaxen  hair  of  a 
Titanic  Naiad,  rolling  into  the  bosom  of  the  rising  river-god 


276  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

below.  The  mist  hung  there,  darkening  everything  with  its 
whiteness,  ever  sinking  in  slow  fall  upon  the  slippery  peat  and 
the  heather  and  the  gray  old  stones.  By  and  by  the  pools 
would  be  filled,  and  the  hidden  caves  ;  their  sides  would  give 
way  ;  the  waters  would  rush  from  the  one  into  the  other,  and 
from  all  down  the  hill-sides,  and  the  earth-sponge  would  be 
drained  off. 

"  Gin  this  bauds,  we'll  has  a  spate,"  said  Alec  to  himself, 
■when  he  saw  how  the  waters  met,  flooding  the  inters,  and  be- 
ginning to  invade  the  trees  upon  the  steep  banks  below.  The 
scene  was  in  harmony  with  his  feelings.  The  delight  of  the 
sweeping  waters  entered  his  soul,  and  filled  him  with  joy  and 
strength.  As  he  took  his  way  back  through  the  stunted  trees, 
each  swathed  in  its  own  mist,  and  dripping  as  if  it  were  a 
separate  rain-cloud ;  and  through  the  bushes  that  wetted  him 
like  pools ;  and  through  the  streams  that  poured  down  the 
steep  bank  into  the  Glamour ;  he  thought  how  different  it  was 
when  he  walked  there  with  Kate,  when  the  sun  was  bright, 
and  the  trees  were  covered  with  green,  and  the  heather  was  in 
patches  of  blossom,  and  the  river  went  clear-hearted  and  sing- 
ing over  its  stony  channel  below.  But  he  would  rather  have 
it  thus,  now  that  Kate  was  gone. 

The  floods  then  were  slower  in  rising,  and  rose  to  a  much 
greater  height  than  now.  In  the  present  day,  the  numerous 
drains  provide  a  rapid  and  steaay  escape,  so  that  there  is  no 
accumulation  of  waters,  and  no  bursting  of  the  walls  of  natural 
or  accidental  reservoirs.  And  I  presume  that  from  slow 
changes  produced  in  the  climate  by  cultivation,  there  may  be 
a  less  fall  of  water  now  than  there  used  to  be  ;  for  in  some 
parts  of  that  country  the  rivers  have,  within  the  memory  of 
middle-aged  men,  considerably  decreased  in  volume. 

That  evening,  in  the  schoolmaster's  lodgings,  Truffey  sat  at 
the  tea-table  triumphant.  The  master  had  been  so  pleased  with 
an  exercise  wliich  he  had  written  for  him — written  in  verse  too 
— that  he  had  taken  the  boy  home  to  tea  with  him,  dried  him 
well  at  his  fire,  and  given  him  as  much  buttered  toast  as  he 
could  eat.  Truffey  had  often  had  a  like  privilege,  but  never 
for  an  ovation,  as  now.     How  he  loved  the  master  ! 

"Truftcy,"  said  Mr  Malison,  after  a  long  pause,  during 
which  he  had  been  staring  into  the  fire,  ''  how's  your  leg  ?  " 

"  Quite  weel,  thank  ye,  sir,"  answered  Trufl'ey,  uncon- 
sciously putting  out  tlie  foot  of  the  wrong  leg  on  the  fender. 
"  There  wasna  onytliiiig  the  maittcr  wi'  't." 

"  I  mean  the  other  leg,  Truffey — the  one  that  I — that  I — 
hurt." 


ALEC  FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN  Z  i  i 

"Perfectly  weel,  sir.  It's  no  worth  speirin'  efter.  I 
wonner  that  ye  tak  sic  pains  wi'  me,  sir,  whan  I  was  sic  a 
uickum." 

The  master  could  not  reply.  But  he  was  more  grateful 
forTruffev's  generous  forgiveness  than  he  Avould  have  been  for 
the  richest  living  in  Scotland.  Such  forgiveness  is  just  giving 
us  back  ourselves — clean  and  happy.  And  for  what  gift  can 
we  be  more  grateful  ?  He  vowed  over  again  to  do  all  he  could 
for  Trufl'ey.  Perhaps  a  sticket  minister  might  have  a  hand  in. 
making  a  minister  that  would  not  stick. 

Then  the  master  read  Truffey's  queer  composition  aloud, 
and  notwithstanding  all  his  conscientious  criticism,  Truffey 
was  delighted  with  his  own  work  when  removed  to  an  objective 
distance  by  the  master's  reading.    At  length  Mr  Malison  said: 

"  It's  time  to  go  home,  Andrew  Truifey.  Put  on  my  cloak 
— there.     And  keep  out  of  the  puddles  as  much  as  you  can." 

"  ril  pit  the  sma'  fit  in,"  said  Truffey,  holding  up  the  end 
of  his  crutch,  as  he  stretched  it  forward  to  make  one  bound 
out  of  the  door.  Por  he  delighted  in  showing  off  his  agility  to 
the  master 


CHAPTER  LXIl. 

"Whe:??  Alec  looked  out  of  his  window  the  next  morning,  he 
'■aw  a  broad  yellow  expanse  below.  The  Glamour  was  rolling, 
a  mighty  river,  through  the  land.  A  wild  waste  foamy  water, 
looking  cold  and  torn  and  troubled,  it  swept  along  the  fields 
where  late  the  corn  had  bowed  to  the  autumn  winds.  But  he 
had  often  seen  it  as  high.  And  all  the  corn  was  safe  in  the 
yard. 

Neither  he  nor  his  mother  regretted  much  that  they  could 
not  go  to  church.  Mrs  Porbes  sat  by  the  fire  and  read  Hannah 
More's  Cliristian  Morals,  and  Alec  sat  bv  the  window  reading 
James  Montgomery's  World  before  tJw  Flood,  and  watching  the 
river,  and  the  splashing  of  the  rain  in  the  pluvial  lake,  for  the 
water  was  nearly  a  foot  deep  around  the  house,  although  it 
stood  upon  a  knoll  of  gravel. 

All  night  Tibbie  Dyster  had  lain  awake  in  her  lonely 
cottage,  listening  to  the  quiet  neavy  ffo  of  the  water  from  which 
all  the  sweet  babbling  sounds  and  delicate  music-tones  had 
departed.     The  articulation  of  the  river-god  was  choked  in  the 


278  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

weight  and  hurry  of  its  course  to  the  expectant  sea.  Tibbie 
was  still  far  from  well,  had  had  many  relapses,  and  was  more 
than  ever  convinced  that  the  Lord  was  going  to  let  her  see  his 
face. 

Annie  would  have  staid  with  her  that  Saturday  night,  as 
she  not  unfrequently  did,  had  she  not  known  that  Mrs  Bruce 
would  make  it  a  pretext  for  giving  her  no  change  of  linen  for 
another  week. 

The  moment  Bruce  entered  the  chapel — for  no  weather 
deprived  him  of  his  Sabbath  privileges — Annie,  who  had  been 
his  companion  so  far,  darted  off  to  see  Tibbie.  When  Bruce 
found  that  she  had  not  followed  him,  he  hurried  to  the  door, 
but  only  to  see  her  halfway  down  the  street.  He  returned  in 
anger  to  his  pew,  which  he  was  ashamed  of  showiilg  thus  empty 
to  the  eyes  of  his  brethren.  But  there  were  many  pews  in 
like  condition  that  morning. 

The  rain  having  moderated  a  little  in  the  afternoon,  the 
chapel  was  crowded  in  the  evening.  Mrs  Bruce  was  the  only 
one  of  the  Bruce-family  absent.  The  faces  of  the  congregation 
wore  an  expectant  look,  for  they  knew  Mr  TurnbuU  would 
improve  the  occasion  :  he  always  sought  collateral  aid  to  the 
influences  of  the  truth,  and  sometimes  attempted  to  suborn 
jS'ature  herself  to  give  effect  to  his  persuasions.  The  text  he 
had  chosen  was  :  "  But  as  the  days  of  Noe  were,  so  shall  also 
the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  be."  He  made  no  allusion  to 
the  paper  which  the  rain  was  busy  washing  off  the  door  of  the 
chapel ;  nor  did  he  wish  to  remind  the  people  that  this  was  the 
very  day  foreseen  by  the  bill-sticking  prophet,  as  appointed  for 
the  advent  of  judgment.  But  when,  in  the  middle  of  the 
sermon,  a  flash  of  lightning  seemed  to  extinguish  the  array  of 
candles,  and  was  followed  by  an  instant  explosion  of  thunder, 
and  a  burst  of  rain,  as  if  a  waterspout  had  broken  over  their 
heads,  coming  down  on  the  roof  like  the  trampling  of  horses 
and  the  noise  of  chariot-wheels,  the  general  start  and  pallor  of 
the  congregation  showed  that  they  had  not  forgotten  the  pre- 
diction. This  then  was  the  way  in  which  judgment  was  going 
to  be  executed  :  a  second  flood  was  about  to  sweep  them  from 
the  earth.  So,  although  all  stared  at  the  minister  as  if  they 
drank  in  every  word  of  his  representation  of  Noah's  flood,  with 
its  despairing  cries,  floating  carcases,  and  lingering  deaths  on 
the  mountain-tops  as  the  water  crept  slowly  up  from  peak  to 
peak,  yet  they  were  much  too  frightened  at  the  little  flood  in 
the  valley  of  two  rivers,  to  care  for  the  terrors  of  the  great 
deluge  of  'the  world,  in  which,  according  to  Mr  Turnbull, 
eighty  thousand  millions  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  men 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  279 

perished,  or  to  heed  the  practical  application  which  he  made  of 
his  subject.  For  once  the  contingent  of  nature  was  too 
powerful  for  the  ends  of  the  preacher. 

When  the  service  was  over,  they  rushed  out  of  the  chapel. 

Robert  Bruce  was  the  first  to  step  from  the  threshold  up 
to  the  ankles  in  water.  The  rain  was  falling — not  in  drops, 
but  in  little  streams. 

"  The  Lord  preserve  's !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It's  risen  a  fit 
{foot')  upo'  Glamerton  a'ready.  And  there's  that  sugar  i'  the 
cellar!     Bairns,  rin  hame  yer  lanes.     I  canna  bide  for  ye." 

And  he  was  starting  off  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

"  Hoots !  man,"  cried  Thomas  Crann,  who  came  behind 
him,  "  ye're  sae  sair  ta'en  up  wi'  the  warl,  'at  ye  hae  nae  room 
for  ordinar'  common  sense.  Te're  only  stannin'  up  to  the 
mou's  o'  yer  shune  i'  the  hole  'at  ye  unnertook  yersel'  to  fill 
up  wi'  the  lime  'at  was  ower  after  ye  had  turned  yer  dry  stane 
dyke  intil  a  byre-wa'." 

Eobert  stepped  out  of  the  hole  and  held  his  tongue.  At 
that  moment,  Annie  was  slipping  past  him  to  run  back  to 
Tibbie.  He  made  a  pounce  upon  her  and  grabbed  her  by  the 
shoulder. 

"  Xae  mair  o' this,  Annie  ! "  he  said.  "Come  hame  for 
cowmon  daeency,  and  dinna  gang  stravaguin'  in  a  nicht  like 
this,  naebody  kens  whaur." 

"A'  body  kens  whaur,"  returned  Annie.  "I'm  only  gaun 
to  sleep  wi'  Tibbie  Dyster,  puir  blin'  body  !  " 

"  Lat  the  blin'  sleep  wi'  the  blin',  an'  come  ye  hame  wi' 
me,"  said  Eobert  oracularly,  abusing  several  texts  of  Scripture 
in  a  breath,  and  pulling  Annie  away  with  him.  "  Te'll  be 
drooned  afore  the  mornin'  in  some  hole  or  ither,  ye  fashous 
rintheroot !     And  syne  wha'll  hae  the  wyte  o'  't  ?  " 

Heartily  vexed  and  disappointed,  Annie  made  no  resistance, 
for  she  felt  it  would  be  uncomely.  And  how  the  rain  did  pour 
as  they  went  home  !  They  were  all  wet  to  the  skin  in  a  mo- 
ment except  Mr  Bruce,  who  had  a  big  umbrella,  and  reasoned 
with  himself  that  his  Sabbath  clothes  were  more  expensive 
than  those  of  the  children. 

The  best  way  certainly  was  to  send  the  wet  ones  to  bed  as 
soon  as  they  got  home.  But  how  could  Annie  go  to  bed  when 
Tibbie  was  lying  awake  listening  for  her  footsteps,  and  hearing 
only  the  sounds  of  the  rising  water  ?  She  made  up  her  mind 
what  to  do.  Instead  of  going  into  her  room,  she  kept  listening 
on  the  landing  for  the  cessation  of  footsteps.  The  rain  poured 
down  on  the  roof  with  such  a  noise,  and  rushed  so  fiercely 
along  the  spouts,  that  she  found  it  diflB.cult  to  be  sure.     There 


280  ALEC  rOKBES  OF  howgle:!*. 

was  no  use  m  changing  her  clothes  only  to  get  them  wet 
again,  and  it  was  well  for  her  that  the  evening  was  warm.  But 
at  length  she  was  satisfied  that  her  gaolers  were  at  supper, 
whereupon  she  stole  out  of  the  house  as  quietly  as  a  kitten, 
and  was  out  of  sight  of  it  as  quickly.  Xot  a  creature  was  to 
be  seen.  The  gutters  were  all  choked  and  the  streets  had  be- 
come river-beds,  already  torn  with  the  rush  of  the  ephemeral 
torrents.  But  through  it  all  she  dashed  fearlessly,  bounding 
on  to  Tibbie's  cottage. 

"  Eh,  preserve's !  sic  a  nicht,  Peter  "Wliaup  !  "  said  Peter's 
wife  to  Peter  as  he  sat  by  the  fire  with  his  cutty  in  his  teeth. 
"  It'll  be  an  awfu'  spate." 

"  Ay  wiirt,"  rejoined  Peter.  "  There's  mair  water  nor 
whusky  already.  Jist  rax  doon  the  bottle,  gudewife.  It  tak's 
a  hautle  to  quawlifee  sic  weet's  this.  Tak'  a  drappy  yersel', 
'oman,  to  hand  it  oot." 

"  Te  hae  had  plenty,  Peter.  I  dinna  want  nane.  Te're  a 
true  smith,  man:  ye  hae  aye  a  spark  i'  yer  throat." 

"  Toots !  There  never  was  sic  a  storm  o'  water  sin'  the  ark 
o'  the  covenant — " 

"Te  mean  Noah's  ark,  Peter,  man." 

"  Weel,  weel !  onythiug  ye  like.  It's  a'  the  same,  ye  ken. 
I  was  only  jist  remarkin'  that  we  haena  sic  a  fa'  o'  rain  ilka 
day,  an'  we  sud  jist  hand  the  day  in  min',  pay  't  respec'  like, 
keep  it  wi'  a  tumler,  ye  ken — cummummerate  it,  as  they  ca'  't. 
Hax  doon  the  bottle,  lass,  and  I'll  jist  gie  a  luik  oot  an'  see 
whether  the  water's  Kkely  to  come  in  ower  the  door-sill ;  for 
gin  it  ance  crosses  the  thrashoF,  I  doot  there  wonno  be  whusky 
eneuch  i'  the  hoose,  and  bein'  the  Sawbath  nicht,  we  canna 
weel  win  at  ony  mair." 

Thus  entreated,  Mistress  "Whaup  got  the  bottle  down.  She 
knew  her  husband  must  have  whisky,  and,  like  a  wise  woman, 
got  him  to  take  as  large  a  proportion  of  the  immitigable  quan- 
tity as  possible  at  home.    Peter  went  to  the  door  to  reconnoitre. 

"  Guid  guide  's  !  "  he  cried ;  "  there's  a  lassie  run  by  like  a 
maukin  {hare),  wi'  a  splash  at  ilka  fit  like  a  wauk-mill.  An'  I 
do  believe  it  was  Annie  Anderson.  AVill  she  be  rinniu'  for 
the  howdie  {midwife)  to  Mistress  Bruce  ?  The  cratur'U  be 
droont.     I'll  jist  rin  efter  her." 

"  An'  be  droont  yersel,  Peter  Whaup  !  She's  a  wise  lass, 
an'  can  tak  care  o'  hersel.     Lat  ye  her  rin." 

But  Peter  hesitated. 

"  The  water's  bilin',"  cried  Mrs  Whaup. 

And  Peter  hesitated  no  longer. 

Nor  indeed  could  he  have  overtaken  Annie  if  he  liad  tried. 


ALEC   rOHBES   OF  HOWGLEN.  281 

Before  Peter's  tumbler  was  mixed  she  was  standing  on  the 
stone  across  the  dyer's  dmn,  looking  down  into  the  water  which, 
had  risen  far  up  the  perpendicular  sides  of  its  rocky  conduit. 
Across  the  stone  the  water  from  the  street  above  was  pouring 
into  the  G-lamour. 

"  Tibbie,"  she  said,  as  she  entered  the  cottage,  "  I  doobt 
there's  gaun  to  be  a  terrible  spate." 

"  Lot  it  come,"  cried  Tibbie.  "  The  bit  hoosie's  fund't  upon 
a  rock,  and  the  rains  may  fa',  and  the  wins  may  blaw,  and  the 
floods  may  ca  at  the  hoosie,  but  it  winna  fa',  it  cauna  fa',  for 
it's  fund't  upo'  a  rock," 

Perhaps  Tibbie's  mind  was  wandering  a  little,  for  when 
Annie  entered,  she  found  her  face  flushed,  and  her  hands 
moving  restlessly.  But  what  with  this  assurance  of  her  confi- 
dence, and  the  pleasure  of  being  with  her  again,  Annie  thought 
no  more  about  the  waters  of  the  Glamour. 

"  What  keepit  ye  sae  lang,  lassie  ?  "  said  Tibbie  wearily 
after  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  Annie  had  been  redis- 
posing  the  peats  to  get  some  light  from  the  fire. 

She  told  her  the  whole  story. 

"  And  hae  ye  had  nae  supper  ?  " 

"  Na.     But  I  dinna  want  ony." 

"  Pit  aif  yer  weet  claes  than,  and  come  to  yer  bed." 

Annie  crept  into  the  bed  beside  her — not  dry  even  then, 
for  she  was  forced  to  retain  her  last  garment.  Tibbie  was 
restless,  and  kept  moaning,  so  that  neither  of  them  could  sleep. 
And  the  water  kept  sweeping  on  faster,  and  rising  higher  up 
the  rocky  mound  on  which  the  cottage  stood.  The  old  woman 
and  the  young  girl  lay  within  and  listened  fearless. 


CHAPTEE  LXIII. 


Alec  too  lay  awake  and  listened  to  the  untiring  rain. 
"Weary  of  the  house,  he  had  made  use  of  the  missionar  kirk  to 
get  out  of  it,  and  had  been  one  of  Mr  Turnbull's  congregation 
that  night.  Partly  because  his  mind  was  unoccupied  by  any 
fear  from  without,  for  he  only  laughed  at  the  prophecy,  some- 
thing in  that  sermon  touched  him  deeper  than  any  one  else  in 
the  place  perhaps,  awoke  some  old  feelings  of  responsibility 
that  had  been  slumbering  for  a  long  time,  and  made  him  reflect 
upon  an  unquestioned  article  of  his  creed — the  eternal  loss  and 


282  ALEC    FORBES  OF    HOW  GLEN. 

misery  and  tortui-e  of  the  soul  that  did  not  repent  and  believe. 
At  the  same  time,  what  repentance  and  belief  really  meant — 
what  he  had  to  do  first — he  did  not  know.  All  he  seemed  to 
know  was  that  he  was  at  that  moment  in  imminent  danger  of 
eternal  damnation.  And  he  lay  thinking  about  this  while  the 
rain  kept  pouring  upon  the  roof  out  of  the  thick  night  over- 
head, and  the  Glamour  kept  sweeping  by  through  the  darkness 
to  the  sea.  He  grew  troubled,  and  when  at  last  he  fell  asleep, 
he  dreamed  frightfully. 

When  he  woke,  it  was  a  dull  morning,  full  of  mist  and 
rain.  His  dreams  had  fled  even  from  his  memory,  but  had 
left  a  sense  of  grievous  discomfort.  He  rose  and  looked  out 
of  the  window.  The  Glamour  spread  out  and  rushed  on  like 
the  torrent  of  a  sea  forsaking  its  old  bed.  Down  its  course 
swept  many  dark  objects,  which  he  was  too  far  off  to  distin- 
guish. He  dressed  himself,  and  went  down  to  its  edge — not 
its  bank :  that  lay  far  within  and  far  beneath  its  torrent. 
The  water,  outspread  where  it  ought  not  to  be,  seemed  to 
separate  him  from  the  opposite  country  by  an  impassable  gulf 
of  space,  a  visible  infinitude — a  vague  marvel  of  waters.  Past 
him  swept  trees  torn  up  by  the  roots.  Down  below,  where 
he  could  not  see,  stones  were  rolling  along  the  channel.  On 
the  surface,  sheaves  and  trees  went  ifloating  by.  Then  a  cart 
with  a  drowned  horse  between  the  shafts,  heaved  past  in  the 
central  roll  of  the  water.  Next  came  something  he  could  not 
understand  at  first.  It  was  a  great  water-wheel.  This  made 
him  think  of  the  mill,  and  he  hurried  off  to  see  what  the 
miller  was  doiiig. 

Truffey  went  stumping  through  the  rain  and  the  streams 
to  the  morning  school.  Gladly  would  he  have  waited  on  the 
bridge,  which  he  had  to  cross  on  his  way,  to  look  at  the  water 
instead.  But  the  master  would  be  there,  and  Truftey  would 
not  be  absent.  When  Mr  Malison  came,  Truffey  was  stand- 
ing in  the  rain  waiting  for  him.  Not  another  boy  was  there. 
He  sent  him  home.  And  Truffey  went  back  to  the  bridge 
over  the  Glamour,  and  there  stood  watching  the  awful  river. 

Mr  Malison  sped  away  westward  towards  the  Wan  Water. 
On  his  way  he  found  many  groups  of  the  inhabitants  going 
in  the  same  direction.  The  bed  of  the  Wan  Water  was  here 
considerably  higher  than  that  of  the  Glamour,  although  by  a 
rapid  descent  it  reached  the  same  level  a  couple  of  miles  below 
the  town.  But  its  waters  had  never,  to  the  knowledge  of 
any  of  the  inhabitants,  risen  so  high  as  to  surmount  the  ridge 
on  the  other  slope  of  which  the  town  was  built.  Conse- 
quently they  had  never  invaded  the  streets.     But  now  people 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    nOWGLEN.  283 

tsaid  tlie  Wan  Water  would  be  down  upon  them  in  the  course 
of  an  hour  or  two,  when  Glamertou  would  be  in  the  heart  of 
a  torrent,  for  the  two  rivers  would  be  one.  So  instead  of 
going  to  school,  all  the  boys  had  gone  to  look,  and  the  master 
followed  them.  Nor  was  the  fear  without  foundation  ;  for 
the  stream  was  still  rising,  and  a  foot  more  would  overtop  the 
ground  between  it  and  the  Glamour. 

But  while  the  excited  crowd  of  his  townsmen  stood  in  the 
middle  of  a  stubble-field,  watching  the  progress  of  the  enemy 
at  their  feet,  Eobert  Bruce  was  busy  in  his  cellar  preparing 
for  its  reception.  He  could  not  move  his  cask  of  sugar  with- 
out help,  and  there  was  none  of  that  to  be  had.  Therefore 
he  was  now,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  carrying  the  sugar  up  the 
cellar-stairs  in  the  coal-scuttle,  while  Mrs  Bruce,  in  a  con- 
dition very  unfit  for  such  efforts,  went  toiling  behind  him 
with  the  meal-hossie  filled  far  beyond  the  brim.  As  soon  as  he 
had  finished  his  task,  he  hurried  off  to  join  the  watchers  of 
the  water. 

James  Johnstone's  workshop  was  not  far  from  the  Glamour. 
When  he  went  into  it  that  morning,  he  found  the  treadles 
under  water,  and  thought  he  had  better  give  himself  the 
play. 

"  I'll  jist  tak  a  daun'er  (stroll)  doon  to  the  brig  to  see  the 
spate  gang  by,"  he  said  to  himself,  and,  putting  on  his  grand- 
father's hat,  went  out  into  the  rain. 

As  he  came  near  the  bridge,  he  saw  cripple  Truffey  leaning 
over  the  parapet  with  horror-stricken  looks.  The  next 
moment  he  bounded  to  his  one  foot  and  his  crutch,  and 
spanged  over  the  bridge  as  if  he  had  been  gifted  with  six  legs. 

When  James  reached  the  parapet,  he  could  see  nothing  to 
account  for  the  terror  and  eagerness  in  Truftey's  pale  face,  nor 
for  his  precipitate  flight.  But  being  short-sighted  and  in- 
quisitive, he  set  off  after  Truffey  as  fast  as  the  dignity  proper 
to  an  elderly  weaver  and  a  deacon  of  the  missionars  would 
permit. 

As  Alec  came  near  the  mill  he  saw  two  men  standing 
together  on  the  verge  of  the  brown  torrent  which  separated 
them  from  it.  They  were  the  miller — the  same  whose  mill- 
stone Curly  had  broken  by  shutting  down  the  sluice — and 
Thomas  Crann,  the  latest  architect  employed  about  the  build- 
ing. Thomas  had  been  up  all  night,  wandering  hither  and 
thither  along  the  shore  of  the  Wan  Water,  sorely  troubled 
about  Glamerton  and  its  careless  people.  Towards  morning 
he  had  found  himself  in  the  town  again,  and,  crossing  the 
Glamour,  had  wandered  up  the  side  of  the  water,  and  so  come 


284  ALE-C    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEK. 

upon    the    sleepless   miller    contemplating   his    mill   in   the 
embrace  of  the  torrent. 

"  Te  maun  alloo  it's  hard,  Thamas,"  said  the  miller. 

"  Hard  ?  "  retorted  Thomas  with  indignation,  "  Hoo  daur 
ye  say  sic  a  thing !  Here  hae  ye  been  stickin'  yer  bit  water- 
wheel  i'  the  mids  o'  ane  o'  the  Lord's  burns,  and  the  Lord  has 
ca'd  it  roon  and  roon  for  you  and  yer  forbears  aboon  a  hunuer 
yer,  and  ye've  grun'  yer  breid  oot  o'  't,  and  the  breid  o'  yer 
bairns,  and  noo  whan  it's  i'  the  Lord's  gait,  and  he  maun  hae 
mair  room  to  sen'  doon  the  waters  frae  his  hills,  ye  grnmmle 
an'  compleen  at  the  spate  that's  been  foreordeen't  frae  the 
verra  black  mirk  o'  eternity.  AVhat  wad  ye  think  o'  a  bairn 
gaein'  compleenin'  o'  you  'cause  your  backwater  had  ta'en  awa' 
his  wheelie  o'  raslies,  whaur  it  was  whurliu'  bonnie  afore  ye 
liftit  the  sluice  ?  " 

Thomas's  zeal  had  exposed  him  to  the  discomfiture  of  those 
who,  if  they  do  not  actually  tell  lies  for  God,  yet  use  very  bad 
arguments  for  him.      The  miller  rejoined  : 

"  You  or  me,  Thomas,  wad  see  bairnie  an'  wheelie  alike 
safe,  afore  we  liftit  the  sluice.  The  Lord  miclit  hae  managed 
ohn  ta'en  awa'  my  mull." 

"Yer  mull's  nae  doon  the  water  yet,  Simon.  It's  in  some 
extremity,  I  confess  ;  but  whether  it's  to  be  life  or  deith,  none 
kens  but  ane.  Gang  hame,  man,  and  gang  doon  upo'  yer 
knees,  and  pray." 

"  Pray  to  God  aboot  an  auld  meal-mull  ?  "  said  Simon  with 
indignation.     "  'Deed,  I  winna  be  sae  ill-bred." 

And  so  saying,  he  turned  and  went  home,  leaving  Thomas 
muttering — ■ 

'•  Gin  a  body  wad  pray  aboot  onything,  they  micht,  maybe, 
tak'  a  likin'  till  't.  A  prayer  may  do  a  body  guid  whan  it's  no 
jist  o'  the  kin'  to  be  a'thegither  acceptable  to  the  min'  o'  the 
Almichty.  But  I  doobt  his  ear's  gleg  for  ony  prayer  that 
gangs  up  his  gait." 

The  last  two  sentences  were  spoken  aloud  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Alec,  of  whose  presence  he  had  been  aware  from 
the  first,  although  he  had  taken  no  notice  of  his  arrival. 

Before  another  word  was  uttered,  their  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  large  mass  floating  down  the  river. 

"  What's  that,  Thomas  ?  "  said  Alec.  "  I  houp  it  winna 
tak'  awa'  the  brig." 

He  meant  tlie  wooden  bridge  a  few  hundred  yards  below 
them,  which,  inaccessible  from  either  side,  was  now  very  little 
above  the  level  of  the  water. 

"  It's  jist  the  riggin'  o'  some  cottar's  bit  hoosie,"  answered 


ALEC   FOKBES   OF   HOWGLEX.  285 

Thomas.  "  What's  come  o'  them  that  was  aneath  it,  the  Lord 
only  kens.  The  water's  jist  liftit  the  roof  bodily.  There  it 
gangs — throu'  aneath  the  brig. — The  brig's  doon.  It's  no 
doou. — -It's  stau'in'  yet. — But  the  puir  fowk,  Alec  1 — Eh,  gin 
they  warna  preparet !  Think  o'  that,  Alec." 
"  I  houp  they  ^van  oot,"  answered  Alec. 
"  Houps  are  feckless  things,  Alec,"  returned  Thomas,  cen- 
soriously. 

But  the  talk  was  turned  into  another  channel  by  the 
appearance — a  few  ridges  ofl' — for  they  were  standing  in  a 
field — of  TrufFey,  who,  with  frantic  eftorts  to  get  on,  made 
but  little  speed,  so  deep  did  his  crutch  sink  in  the  soaked  earth. 
He  had  to  pull  it  out  at  every  step,  and  seemed  mad  in  his 
foiled  anxiety  to  reach  them.  He  tried  to  shout,  but  nothing 
was  heard  beyond  a  crow  like  that  of  a  hoarse  chicken.  Alec 
started  off  to  meet  him,  but  just  as  he  reached  him  his  crutch 
broke  in  the  earth,  and  he  fell  and  lay  unable  to  speak  a  word. 
"With  slow  and  ponderous  arrival,  Thomas  Cranu  came  up. 

"  Annie  Anderson !  "  panted  out  Truffey  at  length. 

"  What  aboot  her  ?  "  said  both  in  alarm. 

"Tibbie  Dyster!  "  sobbed  Truffey  in  reply. 

"  Here's  Jeames  Johnstone  I  "  said  Thomas  ;  "  he'll  toll's  a' 
aboot  it." 

He  surmised  the  facts,  but  waited  in  painful  expectation 
of  assurance  from  the  deacon,  who  came  slipping  and  sliding 
along  the  wet  ridges. 

"  What's  this  ?  "  he  cried  fiercely,  as  James  came  within 
hearins);. 

"What  is't  ?  "  returned  the  weaver  eagerly. 

If  Thomas  had  been  a  swearing  man,  what  a  terrible  oath 
he  would  have  sworn  in  the  wrath  which  this  response  of  the 
weaver  rousted  in  his  apprehensive  soul !  But  Truffey  was 
again  trying  to  speak,  and  with  a 

"  Be  ashamed  o'  yersel',  Jeames  Johnstone,"  the  mason  bent 
his  ear  to  listen. 

"  They'll  be  droont.  They'll  be  taen  awa.  They  canua 
win  oot." 

Ihomas  and  Alec  turned  and  stared  at  each  other. 

"  The  boat !  "  gasped  Thomas. 

Alec  made  no  reply.  That  was  a  terrible  water  to  look  at. 
And  the  boat  was  small. 

"  Can  ye  guide  it,  Alec  ?  "  said  Thomas,  his  voice  trembling, 
and  the  muscles  of  his  face  working. 

The  terrors  of  the  night  had  returned  upon  Alec.  Would 
the  boat  live  ?     AVas  there  more  than  a  chance  ?     And  if  she 


286  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

went  down,  was  lie  not  damned  for  ever  ?  He  made  no  reply. 
He  was  afraid. 

"  Alec !  "  shouted  Thomas,  in  a  voice  that  might  have  been 
heard  across  the  roar  of  the  Glamour,  "  "Will  ye  lat  the  women 
droon  ?  " 

"  Thomas,"  answered  Alec,  meekly,  trembling  from  head  to 
foot,  "  gin  I  gang  to  the  boddom,  I  gaug  to  hell." 

"  Better  be  damned,  doin'  the  will  o'  God,  than  saved  doin' 
noathing !  "  said  Thomas. 

The  blood  shot  iuto  Alec's  face.     He  turned  and  ran. 

"  Thomas,"  said  James  Johnstone,  with  shy  interposition, 
laying  his  forefinger  upon  the  stonemason's  broad  chest,  "  hae 
ye  considered  what  ye're  drivin'  the  young  man  till  ?  " 

"  Ay,  weel  eneuch,  Jeames  Johnstone.  Te're  ane  o'  thae 
mealy-mou'd  frien's  that  like  a  man  sae  wel  they  wad  raither 
hae  him  gang  wi'  his  back  to  the  pleuch,  nor  ca't  i'  the  face 
o'  a  cauld  win'.  I  wad  raither  see  my  frein'  hangt  nor  see  him 
deserve  hangin'.  Hand  awa'  wi'  ye.  Gin  he  disna  gang,  I'll 
gang  mysel',  an'  I  never  was  in  a  boat  i'  ray  life." 

"  Come  awa,  Thomas,"  cried  Alec,  already  across  three  or 
four  ridges ;  "  I  canna  carry  her  my  lane." 

Thomas  followed  as  fast  as  he  could,  but  before  he  reached 
the  barn,  he  met  Alec  and  one  of  the  farm-servants,  with  the 
boat  on  their  shoulders. 

It  was  a  short  way  to  the  water.  They  had  her  afloat  in 
a  few  minutes,  below  the  footbridge.  At  the  edge  the 
water  was  as  still  as  a  pond. 

Alec  seized  the  oars,  and  the  men  shoved  him  off. 

"  Pray,  Alec,"  shouted  Thomas. 

"  I  haena  time.  Pray  yersel',"  shouted  Alec  in  rej)ly,  and 
gave  a  stroke  that  shot  him  far  towards  the  current.  Before 
he  reached  it,  he  shifted  his  seat,  and  sat  fivcing  the  bows. 
There  was  little  need  for  pulling,  nor  was  there  much  fear  of 
being  overtaken  by  any  floating  mass,  while  there  was  great 
necessity  for  looking  out  ahead.  The  moment  Thomas  saw 
the  boat  laid  hold  of  by  the  current,  he  turned  his  back  to  the 
Glamour,  fell  upon  his  knees  in  the  grass,  and  cried  in  an 
agony: 

"  Lord,  let  not  the  curse  o'  the  widow  and  the  childless  be 
upo'  me,  Thomas  Crann." 

Thereafter  he  was  silent. 

Johnstone  and  the  farm-lad  ran  down  the  river-side. 
Truft'ey  had  started  for  the  bridge  again,  having  tied  up  his 
crutch  with  a  string.  Thomas  remained  kneeling,  with  his 
arms  stretched  out  as  stiff  as  the  poles  of  a  scafl'old,  and  the 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  287 

joints  of  his  clasped  fingers  buried  in  the  roots  of  the  grass. 
The  stone  piers  of  the  wooden  bridge  fell  into  the  water  with 
a  rush,  but  he  never  heard  it.  The  bridge  floated  past  him 
bodily,  but  his  back  was  towards  it.  Like  a  wretch  in 
sanctuary,  he  dared  not  leave  "  the  footstool  of  grace,"  or 
expose  himself  to  the  inroads  of  the  visible  world  around  him, 
by  opening  his  eyes. 

Alec  did  not  find  it  so  hard  as  he  had  expected  to  keep  his 
boat  from  capsizing.  But  the  rapidity  with  which  the  banks 
swept  past  him  was  frightful.  The  cottage  lay  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Glamour,  lower  down,  and  all  that  he  had  to  do  for 
a  while,  was  to  keep  the  bows  of  his  boat  down  the  stream. 
"When  he  ajjproached  the  cottage,  he  drew  a  little  out  of  the 
centre  of  the  current,  which,  confined  within  rising  ground, 
was  here  fiercer  than  anywhere  above.  But  out  of  the  current 
he  could  not  go  ;  for  the  cottage  lay  between  the  channel 
of  the  river  and  the  mill-race.  Except  for  its  relation,  how- 
ever, to  the  bridge  behind  it,  which  he  saw  crowded  with 
anxious  spectators,  he  would  not  have  known  where  it  ought 
to  be — so  much  was  the  aspect  of  everything  altered.  He 
could  see  that  the  water  was  more  than  halfway  up  the  door, 
right  at  which  he  had  resolved  to  send  his  boat.  He  was 
doubtful  whether  the  doorway  was  wide  enough  to  let  it 
through,  but  he  saw  no  other  way  of  doing.  He  hoped  his 
momentum  would  be  suflScient  to  force  tlie  door  open,  or, 
better  still,  to  carry  away  the  posts,  and  give  him  more  room. 
If  he  failed  no  doubt  the  boat  would  be  in  danger,  but  he 
would  not  make  any  further  resolutions,  till  action,  becoming 
absolute,  should  reveal  the  nature  of  its  own  necessity.  As 
he  drew  near  his  mark,  therefore,  he  resumed  the  seat  of  a 
rower,  kept  taking  good  aim  at  the  door,  gave  a  few  vigorous 
pulls,  and  unshipping  his  oars,  bent  his  head  forward  from  the 
shock.  Bang  went  the  Bonnie  Annie  ;  away  went  door  and 
posts  ;  and  the  lintel  came  down  on  Alec's  shoulders. 

But  I  will  now  tell  how  the  night  had  passed  with  Tibbie 
and  Annie. 


CHAPTER  LXIV. 


Tibbie's  moaning  grew  gentler  and  less  frequent,  and  both 
fell  into  a  troubled  slumber.  Erom  this  Annie  awoke  at  the 
sound  of  Tibbie's  voice.     She  was  talkiug  in  her  dream. 


^38  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX. 

"  Dinna  wauk  him,"  she  said ;  "  dinna  -wauk  him  ;  he's  fell 
(Germ.  vieT)  tired  and  sleepy.  Lat  the  win'  blaw,  lads.  Do 
ye  think  He  canna  see  whan  his  een  are  steekit.  Gin  the 
watter  meddle  wi'  you,  He'll  suue  lat  it  ken  it's  i'  the  wrang. 
Te'U  see  't  covverin'  at  's  feet  like  a  colley-dog.  I'll  jist  dight 
the  weet  aff"  o'  my  Lord's  face. — -Weel,  wauk  him  gin  ye  will, 
/wad  raither  gang  to  the  boddom  mysel'." 

A  pause  followed.  It  was  clear  that  she  was  in  a  dream- 
boat,  with  Jesus  in  the  hinder  part  asleep  upon  a  pillow.  The 
sounds  of  the  water  outside  had  stolen  through  her  ears  and 
made  a  picture  in  her  brain.     Suddenly  she  cried  out : 

"I  tellt  ye  sae  !  I  tellt  ye  sae!  Luik  at  it !  The  jaws 
(^waves)  gang  doon  as  gin  they  war  sae  mouy  wholpies  !" 

She  woke  with  the  cry — weeping. 

"  I  thocht  I  had  the  sicht  o'  my  een,"  she  said  sobbing, 
"  and  the  Lord  was  blin'  wi'  sleep." 

"  Do  you  hear  the  watter  ?  "  said  Annie. 

"  AYha  cares  for  that  watter  !  "  she  answered,  in  a  tone  of 
contempt.     "  Do  ye  think  He  canna  manage  liit !  " 

But  there  was  ajabble  in  the  room  beside  them,  and  Annie 
heard  it.     The  water  was  yelping  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"  The  watter's  i'  the  hoose !  "  cried  she,  in  terror,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  rise. 

"  Lie  still,  bairn,"  said  Tibbie,  authoritatively.  "  Gin  the 
watter  be  i'  the  hoose,  there's  no  ootgaug.  It'll  be  doon  afore 
the  mornin'.     Lie  still." 

Annie  lay  down  again,  and  Tibbie  resumed : 

"  Gin  we  be  i'  the  watter,  the  watter's  i'  the  how  o'  his 
ban'.  Gin  we  gang  to  the  boddom,  he  has  only  to  open's  fin- 
gers, an'  there  we  are,  lyin'  i'  the  loof  o'  's  ban',  dry  and  warm 
Lie  still." 

And  Annie  lay  so  still,  that  in  a  few  minutes  more  she  was 
asleep  again.     Tibbie  slept  too. 

But  Annie  woke  from  a  terrible  dream — that  a  dead  man 
was  pursuing  her,  and  had  laid  a  cold  hand  upon  her.  The 
dream  was  gone,  but  the  cold  hand  remained. 

"  Tibbie !  "  she  cried,  "  the  watter  's  i'  the  bed." 

"  What  say  ye,  lassie  ?  "  returned  Tibbie,  waking  up. 

"  The  watter's  i'  the  bed." 

"  Weel,  lie  still.     We  canna  sweyp  it  oot." 

The  water  was  in  the  bed.  And  it  was  pitch  dark.  Annie, 
who  lay  at  the  front,  stretched  her  arm  over  the  side.  It  sunk 
to  the  elbow.  In  a  moment  more  the  bed  beneath  her  was  like 
a  full  sponge.     She  lay  in  silent  terror,  longing  for  the  dawn. 

"  I'm  terrible  cauld,"  said  Tibbie. 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    IIOWGLEN.  289 

Annie  tried  to  answer  her,  but  the  words  would  not  leave 
her  throat.  The  water  rose.  They  were  lying  half-covered 
with  it.  Tibbie  broke  out  singing.  Annie  had  never  heard 
her  sing,  and  it  was  not  very  musical. 

"  Saviour,  through  the  desert  lead  us. 
Without  thee,  we  cannot  go. 

Are  ye  waukin',  lassie  ?  " 
"  Ay,"  answered  Annie. 

"  I'm  terrible  cauld,  an'  the  watter's  up  to  my  throat.  I 
canna  muv,  I'm  sae  cauld.  I  didna  think  watter  had  been  sae 
cauld." 

"  I'll  help  ye  to  sit  up  a  bit.  Te'll  hae  dreidfu'  rheumatize 
efter  this,  Tibbie,"  said  Annie,  as  she  got  up  on  her  knees,  and 
proceeded  to  lift  Tibbie's  head  and  shoulders,  and  draw  her  up 
in  the  bed. 

But  the  task  was  beyond  her  strength.  She  could  not 
move  the  helpless  weight,  and,  in  her  despair,  she  let  Tibbie's 
head  fall  back  with  a  dull  plash  upon  the  bolster. 

Seeing  that  all  she  could  do  was  to  sit  and  support  her,  she 
got  out  of  bed  and  waded  across  the  floor  to  the  fireside  to 
find  her  clothes.  But  they  were  gone.  Chair  and  all  had  been 
floated  away,  and  although  she  groped  till  she  found  the  float- 
ing chair,  she  could  not  find  the  clothes.  She  returned  to  the 
bed,  and  getting  behind  Tibbie,  lifted  her  head  on  her  knees, 
and  so  sat. 

An  awful  dreary  time  followed.  The  water  crept  up  and 
up.  Tibbie  moaned  a  little,  and  then  lay  silent  for  a  long 
time,  drawing  slow  and  feeble  breaths.  Annie  was  almost  dead 
with  cold. 

Suddenly  in  the  midst  of  the  darkness  Tibbie  cried  out, 
"  I  see  hcht !     I  see  licht !  " 

A  strange  sound  in  her  throat  followed,  after  which  she 
was  quite  still.  Annie's  mind  began  to  wander.  Something 
struck  her  gently  on  the  arm,  and  kept  bobbing  against  her. 
She  put  out  her  hand  to  feel  what  it  was.  It  was  round  and 
soft.     She  said  to  herself: 

"  It's  only  somebody's  heid  that  the  water's  torn  aff","  and 
put  her  hand  under  Tibbie  again. 

In  the  morning  she  found  it  was  a  drowned  hen. 
i\t  length  she  saw  motion  rather  than  light.  The  first  of 
the  awful  dawn  was  on  the  yellow  flood  that  filled  the  floor. 
There  it  lay  throbbing  and  swirling.  The  light  grew.  She 
strained  her  eyes  to  see  Tibbie's  face.  At  last  she  saw  that 
the  water  was  over  her  mouth,  and  that  her  face  was  like  the 

19 


290  ALEC   rOKBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

face  of  her  father  in  his  coffin.  Child  as  she  was,  she  knew 
that  Tibbie  was  dead.  She  tried  notwithstanding  to  lift  her 
head  out  of  the  water,  but  she  could  not.  So  she  crept  from 
under  her,  with  painful  effort,  and  stood  up  in  the  bed.  The 
water  almost  reached  her  knees.  The  table  was  floating  near 
the  bed.  She  got  hold  of  it,  and  scrambling  on  to  it,  sat  with 
her  legs  in  the  water.  For  another  long  space,  half  dead  and 
half  asleep,  she  went  floating  about,  dreaming  that  she  was 
having  a  row  in  the  Bonnie  Annie  with  Alec  and  Curly.  lu 
the  motions  of  the  water,  she  had  passed  close  to  the  window 
looking  down  the  river,  and  Trufliey  had  seen  her. 

Wide  awake  she  started  from  her  stupor  at  the  terrible 
bang  with  which  the  door  burst  open.  She  thought  the  cottage 
was  falling,  and  that  her  hour  was  come  to  foUovs'  Tibbie  down 
the  dark  water. 

But  in  shot  the  sharp  prow  of  the  Bonnie  Annie,  and  in 
glided  after  it  the  stooping  form  of  Alec  Forbes.  She  gave 
one  wailing  cry,  and  forgot  everything. 

That  cry  however  had  not  ceased  before  she  was  in  Alec's 
arms.  In  another  moment,  wrapt  in  his  coat  and  waistcoat, 
she  was  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

Alec  was  now  as  cool  as  any  hero  should  be,  for  he  was 
doing  his  duty,  and  had  told  the  devil  to  wait  a  bit  with  his 
damnation.  He  looked  all  about  for  Tibbie,  aud  at  length 
spied  her  drowned  in  her  bed. 

"  So  much  the  more  chance  for  Annie  and  me !  "  he  said. 
"  But  I  wish  I  had  been  in  time." 

What  was  to  be  done  next  ?  Down  the  river  he  must  go, 
and  they  would  be  upon  the  bridge  in  two  moments  after 
leaving  the  cottage. — He  must  shoot  the  middle  arch,  for  that 
was  the  highest.  But  if  he  escaped  being  daslied  against  the 
bridge  before  he  reached  the  arch,  and  even  had  time  to  get  in 
a  straight  line  for  it,  the  risk  was  a  terrible  one,  with  the 
water  within  a  few  feet  of  the  keystone. 

But  when  he  shot  the  Bonnie  Annie  again  through  the 
door  of  the  cottage,  neither  arch  nor  bridge  was  to  be  seen, 
and  the  boat  went  down  the  open  river  like  an  arrow. 


291 


CHAPTEE  LXY. 

Alec,  looking  down  the  river  on  his  way  to  the  cottage,  had 
not  seen  the  wooden  bridge  floating  after  him.  As  he  turned 
to  row  into  the  cottage,  it  went  past  him. 

The  stone  bridge  was  full  of  spectators,  eagerly  watching 
the  boat,  for  Truffey  had  spread  the  rumour  of  the  attempt ; 
while  the  report  of  the  situation  of  Tibbie  and  Annie  having 
reached  even  the  Wan  Water,  those  who  had  been  watching  it 
were  now  hurrying  across  to  the  bridge  of  the  Glamour. 

The  moment  Alec  disappeared  in  the  cottage,  some  of  the 
spectators  caught  sight  of  the  wooden  bridge  coming  down  full 
tilt  upon  them.  Already  fears  for  the  safety  of  the  stone 
bridge  had  been  openly  expressed,  for  the  weight  of  water 
rushing  against  it  was  tremendous ;  and  now  that  they  saw 
this  ram  coming  down  the  stream,  a  panic,  with  cries  and  shouts 
of  terror,  arose,  and  a  general  rush  left  the  bridge  empty  just 
at  the  moment  when  the  floating  mass  struck  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal piers.  Had  the  spectators  remained  upon  it,  the  bridge 
might  have  stood. 

But  one  of  the  crowd  was  too  much  absorbed  in  watching 
the  cottage  to  heed  the  sudden  commotion  arounJ  him.  This 
was  Truff"ey,  who,  leaning  wearily  on  the  parapet  with  his 
broken  crutch  looking  over  it  also  at  his  side,  sent  his  soul 
througii  his  eyes  to  the  cottage  window.  Even  when  the  bridge 
struck  the  pier,  and  he  must  have  felt  the  mass  on  which  he 
stood  tremble,  he  still  kept  staring  at  the  cottage.  Not  till 
he  felt  the  bridge  begin  to  sway,  I  presume,  had  he  a  notion  of 
his  danger.  Then  he  sprang  up,  and  made  for  the  street.  The 
half  of  the  bridge  crumbled  away  behind  him,  and  vanished  in 
the  seething  yellow  abyss. 

At  this  moment,  the  first  of  the  crowd  from  the  Wan 
Water  reached  the  bridge- foot.  Amongst  them  came  the 
schoolmaster.  Truffey  was  making  desperate  efforts  to  reach 
the  bank.  His  mended  crutch  had  given  way,  and  he  was 
hopping  wildly  along.  Murdoch  Malison  saw  him,  and  rushed 
upon  the  falling  bridge.  He  reached  the  cripple,  caught  him 
up  in  his  strong  arms,  turned  and  was  half  way  to  the  street 
when  with  a  awing  and  a  sweep  and  a  great  plash,  the  remain- 
ing half  of  the  bridge  reeled  into  the  current  and  vanished. 
Murdoch  Malison  and  Andrew  Truffey  left  the  world  each  in 
the  other's  arms. 

Their  bodies  were  never  found. 


292  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

A  moment  after  the  fall  of  the  bridge,  Robert  Bruce,  gazing 
with  the  rest  at  the  triumphant  torrent,  saw  the  Bonnie  Annie 
go  darting  past.  Alec  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  facing  down 
the  river,  with  his  oars  level  and  ready  to  dip.  But  Bruce  did 
not  see  Annie  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

"  I  wonner  hoo  auld  Marget  is,"  he  said  to  his  wife  the 
moment  he  reached  home. 

But  his  wife  could  not  tell  him.  Then  he  turned  to  his 
two  younger  children. 

"Bairns,"  he  said,  "Annie  Anderson's  droont.  Ay,  she's 
droont,"  he  continued,  as  they  stared  at  him  with  friglitened 
faces.  "  The  Almichty's  taen  vengeance  upon  her  for  her  dis- 
obedience, and  for  brackin'  the  Sawbath.  See  what  ye'll  come 
to,  bairns,  gin  ye  tak  up  wi'  ill  loons,  and  dinna  miu'  what's 
said  to  ye.     She's  come  to  an  ill  hinner-en'  ?  " 

Mrs  Bruce  cried  a  little.  Eobert  would  have  set  out  at 
once  to  see  Margaret  Anderson,  but  there  was  no  possibility 
of  crossing  the  Wan  Water. 

Fortunately  for  Thomas  Crann,  James  Johnstone,  who  had 
reached  the  bridge  just  before  the  alarm  arose,  sped  to  the 
nearest  side,  which  was  that  away  from  Glamerton.  So,  having 
seen  the  boat  go  past,  with  Alec  still  safe  in  it,  he  was  able  to 
set  off  with  the  good  news  for  Thomas.  After  searching  for 
him  at  the  miller's  and  at  Howglen,  he  found  him  where  he 
had  left  him,  still  on  his  knees,  with  his  hands  in  the  grass. 

"  Alec's  a'  safe,  man,"  he  cried. 

Thomas  fell  on  his  face,  and  he  thought  he  was  dead.  But 
he  was  only  giving  lowlier  thanks. 

James  took  hold  of  him  after  a  moment's  pause.     Thomas 
rose  from  the  earth,  put  his  great  horny  hand,  as  a  chiltl  might,  - 
into  that  of  the  little  weaver,  and   allowed  hnn  to  Jead    liim 
whither  he  would.     He  was  utterly  exhausted,  and  it  was  liours 
before  he  spoke. 

There  was  no  getting  to  Glamerton.  So  James  took  him 
to  the  miller's  for  shelter  and  help,  but  said  nothing  about  how 
he  had  found  him.  The  miller  made  Thomas  drink  a  ghvss  of 
whisky  and  get  into  his  bed. 

"  I  saw  ye,  Thamas,  upo'  yer  knees,"  said  he ;  "  but  I 
dauredna  come  near  ye.  Put  in  a  word  for  me,  neist  time, 
man." 

Thomas  made  him  no  reply. 

Down  the  Glamour  and  down  the  Wan-AVator,  for  the 
united  streams  went  by  the  latter  name,  the  terrible  current 
bore  them.  JSTowhere  could  Alec  find  a  lit  place  to  land,  till 
they  came  to  a  village,  fortunately  on  the  same  side  as  How- 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  293 

glen,  into  the  street  of  which  the  water  flowed.  He  bent  to 
his  oars,  got  out  of  the  current,  and  rowed  up  to  the  door  of  a 
puhlic-house,  whose  fat  kind-hearted  landlady  had  certainly  ex- 
pected no  guests  that  day.  In  a  i'ew  minutes  Annie  was  in  a 
hot  bath,  and  before  an  hour  had  passed,  was  asleep,  breathing 
tranquilly.  Alec  got  his  boat  into  the  coach-house,  and  hiring 
a  horse  from  the  landlord,  rode  home  to  his  mother.  She  had 
heard  only  a  confused  story,  and  was  getting  terribly  anxious 
about  him,  when  he  made  his  appearance.  As  soon  as  she 
learned  that  he  had  rescued  Annie,  and  where  he  had  left  her, 
she  had  Dobbin  put  to  the  gig,  and  drove  off  to  see  after  her 
neglected  favourite. 

From  the  moment  the  bridge  fell,  the  flood  began  to  sub- 
side. Tibbie's  cottage  did  not  fall,  and  those  who  entered,  the 
next  day,  found  her  body  lying  in  the  wet  bed,  its  face  still 
shining  with  the  reflex  of  the  light  which  broke  upon  her  spirit 
as  the  windows  were  opened  for  it  to  pass. 

"  8ee  sees  noo,"  said  Thomas  Crann  to  James  Johnstone, 
as  they  walked  together  at  her  funeral.  "  The  Lord  t^ent  that 
spate  to  wash  the  scales  frae  her  een." 

Mrs  Forbes  brought  Annie  home  to  Howglen  as  soon  as 
she  was  fit  to  be  moved. 

Alec  went  to  town  again,  starting  a  week  before  the  com- 
mencement of  the  session. 


CHAPTER  LXVI. 


It  was  on  a  bright  frosty  evening  in  tlie  end  of  October, 
that  Alec  entered  once  more  the  streets  of  the  great  city.  The 
stars  were  brilliant  over-head,  the  gems  in  Orion's  baldric 
shining  oriently,  and  the  Plough  glittering  with  frost  in  the 
cold  blue  fields  of  the  northern  sky.  Below,  the  streets  shone 
with  their  own  dim  stars  ;  and  men  and  women  wove  the  web 
of  their  life  amongst  them  as  they  had  done  for  old  centuries, 
forgetting  those  who  had  gone  before,  and  careless  of  those 
who  were  to  come  after. 

The  moment  he  had  succeeded  in  satisfying  his  landlady's 
inquisition,  lie  rushed  up  to  Mr  Cupples's  room.  Mr  Clip- 
pies was  out.  "What  was  Alec  to  do  ?  He  could  not  call  on 
Mr  Eraser  tliat  night ;  and  all  space  between  him  and  Kate 
growing  more  immeasurable  the  nearer  he  came  to  her,  he 


294  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

could  not  rest  for  the  feeling  of  distance.  So  he  wandered  out, 
and  along  the  sea-shore  till  under  the  wall  of  the  pier.  The 
tide  was  low,  and  the  wall  high  over  his  head.  He  followed  it 
to  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  gazed  out  over  the  dim  lead- 
coloured  sea.  While  he  stood  thus,  he  thought  he  heard  voices 
in  the  air,  and  looking  up,  saw,  far  over  him,  on  the  top  of  the 
wall,  two  heads  standing  out  against  the  clear  sky,  one  in  a 
bonnet,  the  other  in  a  Glengarry.  Why  should  he  feel  a  pang 
in  his  heart  ?  Surely  there  were  many  girls  who  took  star- 
light walks  on  that  refuge  in  the  sea.  And  a  Glengarry  was 
no  uncommon  wear  for  the  youths  of  the  city.  He  laughed  at 
his  own  weak  fancies,  turned  his  back  on  the  pier,  and  walked 
along  the  shoi'e  towards  the  mouth  of  the  other  river  which  flowed 
into  the  same  bay.  As  he  went,  he  glanced  back  towards  the 
top  of  the  wall,  and  saw  the  outline  of  the  man.  He  was  in 
full  Highland  dress.  The  woman  he  could  not  see,  for  she  was 
on  the  further  side  of  her  companion.  By  che  time  he  was 
halfway  to  the  college,  he  had  almost  forgotten  them. 

It  was  a  desolate  shore  along  which  he  walked.  Two  miles 
of  sand  lay  by  the  lip  of  the  sea  on  his  right.  On  his  left  rose 
irregular  and  changeful  mounds  of  dry  sand,  upon  which  grew 
coarse  grass  and  a  few  unpleasant-looking  plants.  From  the 
level  of  the  tops  of  these  mounds  stretched  away  a  broad  ex- 
panse of  flat  uncultivated  ground,  covered  with  thin  grass. 
This  space  had  been  devoted,  from  time  immemorial,  to  the 
sports  of  the  city,  but  at  this  season,  and  especially  at  this  hour, 
it  was  void  as  the  Sahara.  After  sauntering  along  for  half  an 
hour,  now  listening  to  the  wind  that  blew  over  the  sand-hills, 
and  now  watching  the  spiky  sparkle  of  the  wintry  stars  in  the 
sea,  he  reached  a  point  whence  he  could  descry  the  windows  of 
Mr  Eraser's  part  of  the  college.  There  was  no  light  in  Kate's 
window.  She  must  be  in  the  dining-room  with  her  uncle — or 
— or — on  the  pier — with  whom  ?  He  flung  himself  on  the 
sand.  All  the  old  despair  of  the  night  of  thunder,  of  the  moon- 
light ramble,  of  the  last  walk  together,  revived.  He  dug  with 
his  fingers  into  the  sand  ;  and  just  so  the  horrible  pain  was 
digging,  like  a  live  creature  with  claws,  into  his  heart.  But 
Kate  was  indeed  sitting  quietly  with  her  uncle,  while  he  lay 
there  on  the  sea-shore. 

Time  passes  quickly  in  any  torment — merciful  provision. 
Suddenly  something  cold  seemed  to  grasp  him  by  the  feet. 
He  started  and  rose.  Like  a  wild  beast  in  the  night,  the  tide 
had  crept  up  upon  him.  A  horror  seized  him,  as  if  the  ocean 
were  indeed  a  slimy  monster  that  souglit  to  devour  him  where 
he  lay  alone  and  wretched.     He  sprang  up  the  sand  before 


ALEC    FOKBES    OF    HOWGLEX.  295 

him,  and,  sliding  back  at  every  step,  gained  the  top  with 
difficulty,  and  ran  across  the  links  towards  the  city.  The  ex- 
ercise pumped  the  blood  more  rapidly  through  his  brain,  and 
before  he  reached  home  hope  had  begun  to  dawn.  He  ascended 
the  garret-stairs,  and  again  knocked  at  ]\[r  Cupples's  door. 

"  Come  in,"  reached  his  ear  in  a  strange  dull  tone.  Mr 
Cupples  had  shouted  into  his  empty  tumbler  while  just  going 
to  swallow  the  last  few  drops  without  the  usual  intervention  of 
the  wine-glass.  Alec  hesitated,  but  the  voice  came  again  with 
its  usual  ring,  tinged  with  irritation,  and  he  entered. 

"  Hillo,  bantam!"  exclaimed  Mr  Cupples,  holding  out  a 
grimy  hand,  that  many  a  lady  might  have  been  pleased  to  pos- 
sess and  keep  clean  and  white  :  "  Hoo's  the  soo  ?  Aiid  hoo's 
a'  the  cocks  and  hens?" 

"  Brawly,"  returned  Alec.  "  Hoo's  the  tappit  hen  ?" — a 
large  bottle,  holding  six  quarts,  in  which  Mr  Cupples  kept  his 
whisky. 

Mr  Cupples  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and  stared  at  Alec,  who 
saw  that  he  had  made  a  blunder. 

"  I'll  hae  nae  jaw  frae  you,  younker,"  said  he  slowly.  "  Grin 
ye  be  sae  ill  at  ease  'at  ye  maun  tak'  leeberties  for  the  sake  o' 
bein'  facetious,  ye  can  jist  gang  doon  the  stair  wi'  a  quaiet 
sough." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr  Cupples,"  said  Alec  earnestly,  for 
he  was  vexed  with  himself.  "  But  ye're  quite  richt ;  I  am  some 
ill  at  ease." 

"  1  thocht  as  muckle.  Is  the  rainbow  beginnin'  to  cast 
{fade)  a  wee  ?  Has  the  fit  o'  Iris  ca'd  a  hole  i'  the  airch  o'  't  ? 
Eh,  man  !  man  !  Tak'  to  the  mathemawtics  and  the  anawtomy, 
and  fling  the  conic  sections  an'  the  banes  i'  the  face  o'  the  bonny 
jaud — Iris,  I  mean,  man,  no  ither,  lass  or  leddy." 

For  Mr  Cupples  had  feared,  from  the  expression  of  Alec's 
face,  that  he  had  given  him  oifence  in  return.  A  silence -of  a 
few  seconds  followed,  which  Alec  gladly  broke. 

"  Are  you  still  acting  as  librarian,  Mr  Cupples  ?"  he  said. 

"  Ay.  I'm  actin'  as  librarian,"  returned  Cupples  dryly. 
"And  I'm  thiukin',"  he  added,  "that  the  bulks  are  beginnin' 
to  ken  by  this  time  what  they're  aboot ;  for  sic  a  throuither 
disjaskit  midden  o'  lere,  I  never  saw.  Te  micht  hae  taicklet  it 
wi'  a  graip  "  (a  three-pronged  fork,  a  sort  of  agricultural  tri- 
dent). "Are  ye  gaun  to  tak'  the  cheemistry  alang  wi'  the  naiteral 
philoasophy  ?" 

"Ay." 

"  Weel,  ye  jist  come  to  me,  as  ye  hae  done  afore.  I'm  no 
sae  gude  at  thae  things  as  I  am  at  the  Greek ;  but  I  ken  mair 


296  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

already  nor  ye'll  ken  whan  ye  ken  a'  'at  ye  will  ken.     And 
that's  nae  flattery  either  to  you  or  me,  man." 

With  beating  heart,  Alec  knocked  the  next  day  at  Mr 
Eraser's  door,  and  was  shown  into  the  drawiug-room,  where  sat 
Kate  alone.  The  moment  he  saw  her,  he  knew  that  there  was 
a  gulf  between  them  as  wide  as  the  Glamour  in  a  spate.  She 
received  him  kindly,  nor  was  there  anything  in  her  manner  or 
speech  by  which  he  could  define  an  alteration ;  and  yet,  with 
that  marvellous  power  of  self-defence,  that  instinctive  know- 
ledge of  spirituo-military  engineering  with  which  maidens  are 
gifted,  she  had  set  up  such  a  palisade  between  them,  dug  such 
a  fosse,  and  raised  such  a  rampart,  that  without  knowing  how 
the  effect  was  produced,  he  felt  that  he  could  not  approach  her. 
It  is  strange  how  women  can  put  out  an  invisible  arm  and  push 
one  off"  to  an  infinite  removal. 

With  a  miserable  sense  of  cold  exhaustion  and  aching  dis- 
appointment, he  left  her.  She  shook  hands  with  him  warmly, 
was  very  sorry  her  uncle  was  out,  and  asked  him  whether  he 
would  not  call  again  to-morrow,  when  he  would  certainly  be  at 
home  ?  He  thanked  her  in  a  voice  that  seemed  to  him  not  his 
o^vn,  while  her  voice  appeared  to  him  to  come  out  of  some  far- 
off^  cave  of  the  past.  The  cold  frosty  air  received  him  as  he 
stepped  from  the  door,  and  its  breath  was  friendly.  If  the 
winter  would  only  freeze  him  to  one  of  its  icicles,  and  still  that 
heart  of  his  which  would  go  on  throbbing  although  there  was 
no  reason  for  it  to  throb  any  more !  Tet  had  he  not  often 
found  her  different  from  what  he  had  expected  ?  And  might 
not  this  be  only  one  of  her  many  changeful  moods  ?     Perhaps. 

So  feeling  that  he  had  nothing  to  do  and  only  one  thing  to 
think  about,  he  wandered  further  through  the  old  burgh,  past 
the  lingering  fragment  of  its  once  mighty  cathedral,  and  down 
to  the  bridge  which,  with  its  one  Gothic  arch  as  old  as  the 
youtJi  of  Chaucer,  spanned  the  channel,  here  deep  and  narrow, 
of  the  long-drawn  Highland  river.  Beyond  it  lay  wintry  woods, 
clear-lined  against  the  pale  blue  sky.  Into  these  he  wandered, 
and  was  going  on,  seeing  nothing,  thinking  nothing,  almost 
feeling  nothing,  when  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him. 

"  ilillo,  bantam  !  "  it  cried  ;  and  Alec  did  not  need  to  turn 
to  know  who  called. 

"  I  saw  ye  come  oot  o'  Professor  Eraser's,"  said  Cupples, 
"  and  I  thocht  a  bit  dauner  i'  the  caller  air  wad  do  me  no  ill ; 
sae  I  jist  cam'  efter  ye." 

Tlien  changing  his  tone,  he  added, 

"  Alec,  man,  baud  a  grip  o'  yersel'.  Dinna  t}Tic  that. 
Lowse  onythiug  afore  ye  lowse  baud  o'  versel'." 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  297 

"  Wliat  do  you  mean,  Mr  Cupples  ?  "  asl\ed  Alee,  not 
altogether  willing  to  understand  him. 

"  Ye  ken  weel  eneuch  what  I  mean.  There's  a  trouble 
upo'  ye.  I'm  no  speirin'  ony  questons.  But  jist  hand  a  grip 
o'  ycrsel',  Eainbows !  Eainbows ! — We'll  jist  hae  a  walk 
thegither,  an'  I'll  instruck  ye  i'  the  first  prenciples  o'  naiteral 
philosophy. — First,  ye  see,  there's  the  attraction  o'  graivitation, 
and  syne  thei'e's  the  attraction  o'  cohesion,  and  syne  there's 
the  attraction  o'  adhesion ;  though  I'm  thiukiu',  i'  the  lang 
run,  they'll  be  a'  fun'  to  be  ane  and  the  same.  And  syne 
there's  the  attraction  o'  afFeenity,  whilk  differs  mair  nor  a 
tae's  length  frae  the  lave.  In  hit,  ye  see,  ae  thing  taks  till 
auither  for  a  whilie,  and  bauds  gey  and  sicker  till 't,  till  anither 
comes  'at  it  likes  better,  whaurupon  there's  a  proceedin'  i'  the 
Chancery  o'  Natur — only  it  disna  aye  baud  lang,  and  there's 
nae  lawyers'  fees — and  the  tane's  straughtways  divorced  frae 
the  tither." 

And  so  he  went  on,  giving  a  kind  of  humorous  travesty  of 
a  lecture  on  physics,  which,  Alec  could  not  help  perceiving, 
glanced  every  now  and  then  at  his  mental  condition,  especially 
when  it  came  to  treat  of  the  mechanical  powers.  It  w^s 
evident  that  the  strange  being  had  some  perception  of  the  real 
condition  of  Alec's  feelings.  After  walking  a  couple  of  miles 
into  the  open  country,  they  retraced  their  footsteps.  As  they 
approached  the  college,  Mr  Cupples  said  : 

"  jNToo,  Alec,  ye  maun  gang  hame  to  yer  denuer.  I'll  be 
hame  afore  nicht.  And  gin  ye  like,  ye  can  come  wi'  me  to  tlie 
library  the  morn,  and  I'll  gie  ye  something  to  do." 

Glad  of  anything  to  occupy  his  thoughts,  Alec  went  to  the 
library  the  next  day ;  and  as  Mr  Cupples  was  making  a  cata- 
logue, and  at  the  same  time  a  thorough  change  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  books — both  to  be  after  his  own  heart — be  found 
plenty  for  him  to  do. 

Alec  soon  found  his  part  in  the  catalogue- work  becoming 
agreeable.  But  although  there  was  much  to  be  done  as  well 
in  mending  old  covers,  mounting  worn  title-pages,  and  such 
like,  in  this  department  Mr  Cupples  would  accept  no  assist- 
ance. Indeed  if  Alec  ventured  to  take  up  a  book  destined  for 
repair,  he  would  dart  at  him  an  anxious,  almost  angry  glance, 
and  keep  watching  him  at  uneasy  intervals  till  he  had  laid  it 
down  again.  Books  were  Mr  Cupples's  gold  and  jewels  and 
furniture  and  fine  clothes,  in  fact  his  whole  gloria  mundi. 

But  the  opening  day  was  at  hand,  after  which  Alec  would 
have  less/ time.  Still  he  resolved,  as  some  small  return  for  the 
kindness  of  Mr  Cupples,  that  he  would  continue  to  give  him 


298  AT.EC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

what  help  he  could ;  for  he  had  discovered  that  the  pro-li- 
brarian lived  in  continual  dread  lest  the  office  should  be  per- 
manently filled  before  he  had  completed  his  labour  of  re-organ- 
ization. 

During  the  few  days  passed  in  the  library,  he  called  once 
upon  Mr  Fraser,  and  met  with  a  warm  reception  from  him. 
Kate  gave  him  a  kind  one  as  before ;  but  he  had  neither  the 
satisfaction  nor  the  pain  of  being  alone  with  her. 

At  the  opening,  appeared  amongst  the  rest  Patrick  Beau- 
champ — claiming  now  the  name  and  dignity  of  The  Mac  Chat- 
tachan,  for  his  grandfather  was  dead,  and  he  was  heir  to  the 
property.  He  was,  if  possible,  more  haughty  than  before ;  but 
students  are  not,  as  a  class,  ready  to  respond  to  claims  of 
superiority  upon  such  grounds  as  he  possessed,  and,  except  by 
a  few  who  were  naturally  obsequious,  he  continued  to  be  called 
Beauchamp,  and  by  that  name  I  shall  call  him  too. 

It  soon  came  out  that  when  lecture-hours  were  over,  he  put 
off  his  lowland  dress,  and  went  everywhere  in  Highland 
costume.  Indeed  on  the  first  day  Alec  met  him  in  the  gloam- 
ing thus  attired ;  and  the  flash  of  his  cairngorms  as  he  passed 
seemed  to  scorch  his  eyes,  for  he  thought  of  the  two  on  the 
pier,  and  the  miserable  hour  that  followed.  Beauchamp  no 
longer  attended  the  anatomical  lectures ;  and  when  Alec  ob- 
served his  absence,  he  recalled  the  fact  that  Kate  could  never 
bear  even  a  distant  reference  to  that  branch  of  study.  Whether 
he  would  have  gone  in  for  it  with  any  heartiness  himself  this 
session,  had  it  not  been  for  the  good  influence  of  Mr  Cupples, 
is  more  than  doubtful.  But  he  gave  him  constant  aid,  consist- 
ing in  part  of  a  liberal  use  of  any  kind  of  mental  goad  that 
came  to  his  hand — sometimes  praise,  sometimes  rebuke,  some- 
times humorous  execration. 

Fortunately  for  the  designs  of  Beauchamp,  Mr  Fraser  had 
been  visiting  in  his  mother's  neighbourhood  ;  and  nothing  was 
easier  for  one  who,  like  most  Celts,  possessed  more  than  the 
ordinary  power  of  ingratiating,  than  to  make  himself  agreeable 
to  the  old  man.  "When  he  took  his  leave  to  return  to  the 
college,  Mr  Fraser  declared  himself  sorry  that  he  had  made  no 
better  acquaintance  with  him  before,  and  begged  that  he  would 
call  upon  him  when  he  came  up. 


299 


CHAPTEE  LXYIL 

Soon  after  the  commencement  of  tlie  session,  a  panic  seized 
the  townspeople  in  consequence  of  certain  reports  connected 
•with  the  school  of  anatomy,  which  stood  by  itself  in  a  low 
neighbourhood.  They  were  to  the  effect  that  great  indignities 
were  practised  upon  the  remains  of  the  subjects,  that  they  were 
huddled  into  holes  about  the  place,  and  so  heedlessly,  that  dogs 
might  be  seen  tearing  portions  from  the  earth.  What  truth 
there  may  have  been  at  the  root  of  these  reports,  I  cannot 
tell ;  but  it  is  probable  they  arose  from  some  culpable  care- 
lessness of  the  servants.  At  all  events,  they  were  believed  in 
the  neighbourhood,  occupied  by  those  inhabitants  of  the  city 
readiest  to  receive  and  dwell  upon  anything  revolting.  But 
what  pushed  the  indignation  beyond  the  extreme  of  popular 
endurance,  was  a  second  rumour,  in  the  consternation  occa- 
sioned by  which  the  whole  city  shared :  the  resurrect ionists 
were  at  their  foul  work,  and  the  graveyard,  the  place  of  repose, 
was  itself  no  longer  a  sanctuary  !  Whether  the  authorities  of 
the  medical  school  had  not  been  guilty  of  indifference,  content- 
ing themselves  with  asking  no  questions  about  the  source 
whence  the  means  of  prosecuting  their  art  was  derived,  may  be 
a  question.  But  fear  altogether  outstripped  investigation,  and 
those  even  who  professed  unbelief,  took  precautions ;  whence 
the  lights  of  the  watchers  of  the  dead  might  be  seen  twinkling, 
far  into  the  morning,  in  the  solemn  places  around  the  city 
churches  ;  while  many  a  poor  creature  who  would  have  sold 
his  wife's  body  for  five  pounds,  was  ready  to  tear  a  medical 
student  to  pieces  on  the  mere  chance  that  his  scalpel  had 
touched  a  human  form  stolen  from  the  sacred  enclosure. 

Now  whether  Beauchamp,  who  had  watched  Alec  in  the 
same  situation  before,  had  anything  to  do  with  what  follows  I 
cannot  tell ;  but  his  conduct  then  lays  him  open  to  suspicion 
now. 

Alec,  who  found  some  escape  if  not  relief  from  painful 
thought  in  the  prosecution  of  his  favourite  study,  was  thus 
occupied  one  evening,  no  very  unfrequent  occurrence,  by  candle- 
light. He  had  almost  reached  a  final  understanding  of  the 
point  in  pursuit,  when  he  was  roused  from  his  absorption  by 
a  yell  outside.  He  had  for  some  time  previous  heard  a 
sound  of  gathering  commotion,  but  had  paid  no  attention  to  it. 
He  started  up  from  his  stooping  posture,  and  having  blown 
out  his  candle,  perceived  by  the  lamps  outside,  that  a  crowd 


300  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

of  faces,  pale  in  tlie  darkness,  was  staring  througli  the  high 
iron  palisade  which  surrounded  the  school.  They  hud  seen 
his  light,  and  were  now  watching  for  his  coming  out.  He 
knew  that  upon  the  smallest  additional  excitement  the  locked 
gates  and  palisade  would  not  keep  them  off  more  than  half  a 
minute  ;  so  he  instantly  barred  the  shutters,  and  betook  himself 
to  the  porter's  room.  As  he  crossed  the  small  open  corner 
between  the  two  doors,  he  heard  the  sough  of  their  angry 
speech  swelling  and  falling  like  a  wind  in  the  upper  regions  of 
the  night ;  but  they  did  not  see  him.  Fortunately,  there  was 
a  side  door  in  the  railing,  seldom  used,  of  which  the  key  hung 
in  the  porter's  room.  By  this  door  Alee  let  himself  out,  and 
relocked  it.  But  the  moment  he  turned  to  go  home,  he  heard 
an  urchin,  who  had  peeped  round  a  corner,  screech  to  the  crowd 
across  the  enclosure : 

"  He's  oot  at  the  back  yett !  He's  oot  at  the  back  yett  and 
awa' !  " 

Another  yell  arose,  and  the  sounds  of  trampling  feet. 

Alec  knew  that  his  only  chance  lay  in  his  heels,  and  took 
to  them  faithfully.  Behind  him  came  the  crowd  in  hot 
pursuit.  The  narrow  streets  rang  with"  their  shouts  of 
execration.  Such  curses  could  hardly  be  heard  elsewhere  in 
Europe.  Alec,  knowing  most  of  the  courts  and  passages, 
doubled  on  his  pursuers  in  the  hope  of  eluding  them.  But 
discovering  that  he  had  his  instrument  still  in  his  hand,  he 
stopped  to  put  it  down  the  bars  of  a  grating,  for  a  cut  from  it 
would  have  been  most  perilous,  as  he  had  been  using  it  a  day 
too  soon  ;  and  before  he  had  gained  another  turning,  his 
pursuers  were  on  his  track  and  had  caught  sight  of  him.  But 
Alec's  wind  and  muscles  were  both  good  ;  and  in  five  minutes 
more  he  was  at  the  back  entrance  to  his  own  lodging,  having 
left  the  mob  far  behind  him.  He  darted  up  to  Mr  Cupples, 
and  as  soon  as  he  found  breath  enough,  told  him  his  adventure, 
saying  with  a  laugh,  as  he  concluded, 

"  It's  a  mercy  there's  as  muckle  o'  me  to  the  fore  as  can 
tell  the  tale  !  " 

"  Jist  tak'  ye  tent,  bantam,"  returned  Mr  Cupples,  who 
had  suddenly  assumed  a  listening  attitxule,  with  his  head  on 
one  side,  "  or  ye  mayna  tell  the  neist.     Hark  !  " 

From  far  below  arose  the  dull  sound  of  many  feet  on  the 
stone-stairs.  Mr  Cupples  listened  for  a  moment  as  if  fascin- 
ated, then  turning  quietly  in  his  chair,  put  the  poker  in  the 
iii-e.    Alec  rose. 

"  Sit  down,  you  fool !  "  cried  Cupples  ;  and  Alec  obeyed. 

By  this  time  the  mob  was  thundering  at  the  door  of  the 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  301 

flat  below.  And  the  fact  that  they  knew  where  Alec  lived 
idds  to  my  suspicion  of  Beauchamp.  The  landlady  wisely  let 
them  in,  and  for  a  few  minutes  they  were  busy  searching  the 
rooms.  Then  the  noise  of  their  feet  was  heard  on  the  wooden 
stair  leading  up  to  the  garret,  whereupon  Mr  Cupples  turned 
the  poker  in  the  fire,  and  said  to  Alec, 

"  Ein  into  that  hole  there,  direckly." 

He  pointed  with  the  red-hot  poker  to  the  door  already 
mentioned  as  partly  sunk  in  the  slope  of  the  ceiling,  and  then 
stuck  the  poker  in  the  fire  again.  Alec  pulled  the  door  open, 
and  entering  closed  it  behind  him.  The  next  moment,  guided 
by  the  light  from  under  it,  the  foremost  footsteps  reached  the 
door,  and  the  same  instant  Mr  Cup])les  appeared  in  it  with 
his  glowing  weapon  in  his  hand.  Faces  with  flashing  eyes 
filled  the  dark  garret  outside. 

"  What  do  ye  want?  "  asked  Mr  Cupples. 

"  We  want  a  resurrectioner  'at  bides  i'  this  hoose — a  foul 
bane-jnkiu'  doctor,"  answered  a  huge,  black-faced  smith. 

"  What  do  ye  want  wi'  him  ?  " 

"  What  are  rje  stan'in'  jawin'  there  for  ?  Hand  oot  o'  the 
gait.  Gin  he  bena  in  your  box,  what's  the  odds  o'  oor  luikin' 
int?" 

"  Hand  a  quaiet  sough,  my  man,"  answered  Cupples, 
raising  the  point  of  the  worn  old  weapon,  the  fervency  of 
whose  whiteness  had  already  dimmed  to  a  dull  scaly  red,  "  or 
I  s'  lat  ye  ken'  at  I'm  i'  my  ain  hoose.  My  certy !  but  this'll 
gang  throu  ye  as  gin  ye  war  sae  mony  kegs  o'  saut  butter  !  " 

And  he  gave  a  flourish  with  his  rapier — the  crowd  yielding 
a  step  before  it — as  he  asked  once  more — 

"  What  do  ye  want  wi'  him  ?  " 

"  To  ca  the  sowl  oot  o'  the  wame  o'  the  deil's  buckie  o' 
him,"  said  a  limping  ostler. 

"  I  s'  pang  the  mou'  o'  him  wi'  the  hip  o'  a  corp,"  ci'ied  a 
pale-faced  painter,  who  seemed  himself  to  belong  to  the  injured 
fraternity  of  corpses.  ' 

A  volley  of  answers  too  horrible  for  record,  both  in  them- 
selves and  in  the  strange  devilry  of  their  garnish  of  oaths, 
followed.  Mr  Cupples  did  not  flinch  a  step  from  his  post. 
But,  alas !  his  fiery  sword  had  by  this  time  darkened  into  an 
iron  poker,  and  the  might  of  its  enchantment  vanished  as  the 
blackness  usurped  its  glow.  He  was  just  going  to  throw  it 
away,  and  was  stretching  out  his  other  hand  for  his  grand- 
father's broadsword,  which  he  had  put  in  the  corner  by  the 
door  ready  to  replace  it,  when  a  long  arm,  with  a  fist  at  the 
end  of  it,  darted  from  between  the  heads  in  front  of  him, 


302  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

hurled  him  across  the  room,  and  laid  him  bleeding  and  senseless 
on  his  own  hearth.  The  poker  flew  from  his  hand  as  he  fell. 
The  crowd  rushed  in  after  him,  upset  his  table,  broke  open  the 
door  that  protected  his  precious  books,  and  with  one  vigorous 
kick  from  the  blacksmith's  apprentice,  sent  in  the  door  of 
Alec's  retreat.  But  at  that  moment  Alec  was  contemplating 
the  crowd  below  from  a  regal  seat  between  two  red  chimney- 
pots. 

For  as  soon  as  he  had  drawn-to  the  door  of  the  closet,  in- 
stead of  finding  darkness,  he  became  aware  of  moonshine, 
coming  through  a  door  that  led  out  upon  the  roof.  This  he 
managed  to  open,  and  found  himself  free  of  the  first  floor  of 
the  habitable  earth,  the  cat-walk  of  the  world.  As  steady  m 
foot  and  brain  as  any  sailor,  he  scrambled  up  the  roof,  seated 
himself  as  I  have  said,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  situation. 
A  sort  of  stubby  underwood  of  chimney-pots  grew  all  about 
him  out  of  red  and  blue  ridges.  Above  him  the  stars  shone 
dim  in  the  light  of  the  moon,  which  east  opal  tints  all  around 
her  on  the  white  clouds  ;  and  beneath  him  was  a  terrible  dark 
abyss,  full  of  raging  men,  dimly  lighted  with  lamps. 
Cavernous  clefts  yawned  in  all  directions,  in  the  side  of  which 
lived  men  and  women  and  children.  AYhat  a  seething  of 
human  emotions  was  down  there !  Would  they  ever  be 
sublimed  out  of  that  torture-pit  into  the  pure  air  of  the  still 
heaven,  in  which  the  moon  rode  like  the  very  throne  of  peace  ? 

Alec  had  gone  through  enough  of  trouble  already  to  be 
able  to  feel  some  such  passing  sympathy  for  the  dwellers  in  the 
city  below.  But  the  sounds  of  search  in  the  closet  recalled  him 
to  a  sense  of  his  position.  If  his  pursuers  looked  out  at  the 
door,  they  would  see  him  at  once.  He  was  creeping  round  to 
the  other  side  of  the  chimney  to  cower  in  its  shadow,  when  a 
sudden  bellow  from  the  street  apprized  him  that  the  movement 
had  discovered  him  to  the  crowd.  Presently  stones  came 
flying  about  the  chimneys,  and  a  busy  little  demon  bounded 
into  the  house  to  tell  the  ringleaders  that  he  \Yas  on  the  roof. 
He  therefore  slid  down  the  slope  away  from  the  street,  and 
passed  on  to  the  roof  of  the  next  house,  and  thence  to  the 
third. 

Arriving  at  a  dingy  dormer  window,  he  found  that  it 
opened  with  ease,  admitting  him  into  a  little  room  crowded 
with  dusty  books  and  cobwebs.  He  knew  then  that  he  was 
in  the  territorial  outskirts  of  a  certain  second-liand  bookseller, 
with  whom  he  had  occasional  dealings.  He  closed  the  window, 
and  sat  down  upon  a  pile  of  neglected  volumes.  The  moon 
shining  through  the  clouded  window  revealed  rows  of  books 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  303 

all  about  Mm,  of  which  he  could  not  read  even  the  names. 
But  he  was  in  no  want  of  the  interest  they  might  have 
afforded  him.  His  thoughts  turned  to  Kate.  She  always  be- 
haved to  him  so  that  he  felt  both  hurt  and  repelled,  and  found 
it  impossible  to  go  to  her  so  often  as  he  would.  Tet  now 
when  seated  in  the  solitude  of  this  refuge,  his  thoughts  went 
back  to  her  tenderly  ;  for  to  her  they  always  returned  like 
birds  to  their  tree,  from  all  the  regions  whither  the  energetic 
dispersion  of  Mr  Cupples  might  have  scattered  them  for  their 
pickings  of  intellectual  crumbs.  Now,  however,  it  was  but  as 
to  a  leafless  wintry  tree,  instead  of  a  nest  bowered  in  green 
leaves.  Tet  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  he  was  not  ten 
times  more  miserable  ;  the  fact  being  that,  as  he  had  no  reason 
to  fear  that  she  preferred  any  one  else,  there  was  plenty  of 
moorland  space  left  for  Hope  to  grow  upon.  And  Alec's  was 
one  of  those  natures  that  sovv  Hope  everywhere.  All  that 
such  need  is  room  to  sow.  Take  that  away  and  they  are 
desperate.  Alee  did  not  know  what  advantage  Beauchamp 
had  been  taking  of  the  Professor's  invitation  to  visit  him. 

After  a  time  the  tumult  in  the  street  gradually  died  away, 
and  Alec  thought  he  might  venture  to  return  to  Mr  Cupples. 
Clambering  back  over  the  roofs,  he  entered,  and  found  the 
inner  door  of  the  closet  broken  from  its  hinges.  As  he  moved 
it  aside,  a  cry  of  startled  fear  discovered  that  his  landlady 
was  in  the  room. 

"  Guid  preserve's,  Mr  Forbes!"  she  cried  ;  "  whaur  coma 
ye  frae,  and  what  hae  ye  been  aboot,  to  raise  the  haill  toon  upo' 
ye  ?  I  trust  ye  hae  nae  legs  or  airms  o'  a  cauld  corp  aboot  ye. 
The  fowk  i'  the  back  streets  canna  bide  that.  An'  I  winna 
alloo  't  i'  my  hoose.     Jist  luik  at  puir  Mr  Cupples  here." 

Mr  Cupples  lay  on  the  bed,  with  his  head  bound  in  a  bloody 
bandage.  He  had  fallen  upon  the  fender,  and  a  bad  cut  had 
been  the  consequence.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Alec,  and  said 
feebly, 

"  Bantam,  I  thocht  ye  had  yer  neck  thrawn  or  this  time. 
Hoo,  the  muckle  deil !  did  ye  win  oot  o'  their  grips  ?  " 

"  By  playin'  the  cat  a  wee,"  answered  Alec. 

"  It's  the  first  time,"  remarked  Mr  Cupples,  "  I  ever  kent 
I  had  a  dour  to  the  lift  (sh/).  But  faith  !  the  sowl  o'  me  was 
nearhan'  gaein'  out  at  this  new  ane  i'  my  ain  riggin.  Gin  it 
hadna  been  for  the  guidwife  here,  'at  cam'  up,  efter  the  clan- 
jamfrie  had  taen  themsel's  aff,  an'  fand  me  lying  upo'  the 
liearthstane,  I  wad  hae  been  deid  or  noo.  Was  my  heid  aueath 
the  grate,  guidwife  ?  " 

"  Na,  nae  freely  that,  Mr  Cupples  ;  but  the  blude  o'  't  was 


301  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

And  ye  maun  jist  baud  yer  tongue,  and  lie  still.  Mr  Forbes, 
ye  maun  jist  come  doon  wi'  me ;  for  be  wiuna  baud's  tongue's 
lang's  ye're  tbere.     I'll  jist  mak'  a  cup  o'  tay  till  bim." 

"  Tay,  guidwife !  Deil  slocken  bimsel'  wi  yer  tay  !  Grie 
me  a  sook  o'  tbe  tappit  ben." 

"  'Deed,  Mr  Cupples,  ye  s'  bae  neitber  sook  nor  sipple  o' 
tbat  spring." 

"  Ye  rigwiddie  carlin  !  "  grinned  tbe  patient. 

"  Grin  ye  duina  baud  yer  tongue,  I'll  gang  for  tbe  doctor." 

"  I'll  fling  him  doon  tbe  stair. — Here's  doctor  eneucb  !  "  be 
added,  looking  at  Alec.     "  Grie  me  balf  a  glaiss,  nate." 

"  Never  a  glaiss  nor  glaiss  sail  ye  bae  frae  my  ban',  ^Mr 
Cupples.  It  wad  be  tbe  deid  o'  ye.  And  forbye,  tbae  ill- 
faured  gutter-partans  {kennel-crabs)  toomed  tbe  pig  afore  they 
gaed.  And  guid  faith  !  it  was  tbe  only  wise-like  tbing  they  did. 
Pess  the  twa  halves  o'  't,  Mr  Forbes,  an'  lat  bim  see  't  wi'  tbe 
een  o'  misbelief." 

"  Gang  oot  o'  my  cbaumer  wi'  yer  havers,"  cried  Mr  Cup- 
ples, "  and  lea'  me  wi'  Alec  Forbes.  He  winna  deave  me  wi' 
bis  clash." 

"  'Deed,  I'll  no  lea'  twa  sic  fules  thegither.  Come  doon  the 
stair  direckly,  Mr  Forbes." 

Alec  saw  tbat  it  was  better  to  obey.  He  went  up  on  the 
sly  in  tbe  course  of  the  evening,  however,  but  peeping  in  and 
seeing  tbat  be  slept,  came  down  again.  He  insisted  upon  sit- 
ting up  with  bim  though,  to  which,  after  repeated  vows  of  pru- 
dence and  caution,  their  landlady  consented. 

He  was  restless  and  feverish  during  tbe  night.  Alec  gave 
bim  some  water.  He  drank  it  eagerly.  A  flash  of  his  humour 
broke  through  tbe  cloud  of  his  sufiering  as  he  returned  tbe 
tumbler. 

"  Eh,  man  !  that's  gran'  tipple,"  be  said.  "  Hoo  do  ye 
ca'  't  ?  " 

In  the  morning  he  was  better ;  but  quite  unable  to  rise. 
The  poor  fellow  had  very  little  blood  for  ordinary  organic  pur- 
poses, and  tbe  loss  of  any  was  a  serious  matter  to  bim. 

"  I  canna  lift  my  held.  Alec,"  be  said.  "  Grin  tbat  tbrawn 
wife  wad  bae  but  gien  me  a  drappy  o'  whusky,  I  wad  bae  been 
a'  richt." 

"'  Jist  lie  ye  still,  Mr  Cupples,"  said  Alec.  "  I  winna  gang 
to  tbe  class  tbe  day.     I'll  bide  wi'  you." 

"  Te'll  do  nae'  sic  thing.  Wliat's  to  come  o'  tbe  buiks 
forbye,  wantin'  you  or  me  to  luik  efter  them  ?  An'  the 
senawtus'll  be  say  in'  tbat  I  got  my  beid  clured  wi'  fa' in'  agen 
tbe  curbstaue." 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  305 

"Til  tell  them  a'  aboot  it,  ane  efter  anither  o'  them." 

"  Ay ;  jist  do  sae.  Tell  tliera  a'  aboot  it.  It  wad  brak  ray 
hert  to  pairt  wi'  the  buiks  afore  I  got  them  pitten  in  dacent 
order.  Faith !  I  wadna  lie  still  i'  my  coffin.  1  wad  be 
thrawin'  and  turnin',  and  curfuffliu'  a'  my  win'in'  sheet,  sae  that 
I  wadna  be  respectable  whan  I  bude  to  get  up  again.  Sae  ye 
maiunia  lat  them  think  that  I'm  ower  drucken  for  the  buiks  to 
keep  company  wi',  ye  ken." 

Alec  promised  to  do  all  he  could  to  keep  such  a  ftilse  con- 
clusion from  entering  the  minds  of  the  senatus,  and,  satisfied 
that  he  would  best  serve  the  interests  of  Mr  Cupples  by  doing 
so  at  once,  set  ofl^  for  college,  to  call  on  the  professors  before 
lectures. 

The  moment  he  was  out  of  the  room,  Mr  Cupples  got  out 
of  bed,  and  crawled  to  the  cupboard.  To  his  mortification, 
however,  he  found  that  what  his  landlady  had  said  was  in  the 
main  true  ;  for  the  rascals  had  not  left  a  spoonful  either  in  the 
bottle  which  he  used  as  a  decanter,  or  in  the  store-bottle  called 
the  tappit  {crested)  hen  by  Avay  of  pre-eminence.  He  drained 
the  few  drops  which  had  gathered  from  the  sides  of  the  latter, 
for  it  was  not  in  two  halves  as  she  had  represented,  and 
crawled  back  to  bed.  A  fresh  access  of  fever  was  the  conse- 
quence of  the  exertion.  It  was  many  days  before  he  was  able 
to  rise. 

After  the  morning-classes  were  over.  Alec  went  to  tell  Mr 
Eraser,  the  onl}^  professor  whom  he  had  not  already  seen,  about 
his  adventure,  and  the  consequences  of  the  librarian's  generous 
interference. 

"  I  was  uneasy  about  you,  Mr  Porbes,"  said  the  professor, 
"  for  I  heard  from  your  friend  Beauchamp  that  you  had  got 
into  a  row  with  the  blackguards,  but  he  did  not  know  how  you 
had  come  off*." 

His  friend  Beauchamp !  How  did  he  know  about  it  ? 
And  when  could  he  have  told  Mr  Eraser  r — But  Kate  entered, 
and  Alec  forgot  Beauchamp.  She  hesitated,  but  advanced  and 
held  out  her  hand.  Alec  took  it,  but  felt  it  tremble  in  his 
with  a  backward  motion  as  of  reluctance,  and  he  knew  that 
another  thickness  of  the  parting  veil  had  fallen  between  her 
and  him. 

"  AV^ill  you  stay  and  take  tea  with  us  ?  "  asked  the  professor. 
"  Tou  never  coine  to  see  us  now." 

Alec  stammered  out  an  unintelligible  excuse. 

"  Your  friend  Beauchamp  will  be  here,"  continued  Mr 
]  ra-e  . 

"  I  fear  Mr  Beauchamp  is  no  friend  of  mine,"  said  Alec. 

20 


306  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  He  speaks  very  kindly  of  you 
■ — always." 

Alec  made  no  reply.  Ugly  things  were  vaguely  showing 
themselves  through  a  fog. 

Kate  left  the  room. 

"  You  had  better  stay,"  said  the  old  man  kindly. 

"  I  VFas  up  all  night  with  Mr  Cupples,"  answered  Alec, 
longing  to  be  alone  that  he  might  think  things  out,  "  aud  I  am 
anxious  about  him.  I  should  be  quite  uneasy  if  I  did  stay — 
thauk  you,  Mr  Fraser." 

"Ah  !  well;  your  excuse  is  a  good  one,"  ansv^^ered  the  old 
man.     And  they  parted. 

Alec  went  home  with  such  a  raging  jealousy  in  his  heart, 
that  he  almost  forgot  Mr  Cupples,  and  scarcely  cared  how  he 
might  find  him.  For  this  was  the  first  time  he  had  heard  of 
any  acquaintance  between  the  professor  andBeauchamp.  And 
why  should  Kate  hesitate  to  shake  hands  with  him  ?  He  re- 
called how  her  hand  had  trembled  and  fluttered  on  his  arm  when 
he  spoke  of  the  red  stain  on  the  water ;  and  how  she  had  de- 
clined to  shake  hands  with  him  when  he  told  her  that  he  had 
come  from  the  dissecting-room.  And  the  conviction  seized  him 
that  Beauchamp  had  been  working  on  her  morbid  sensitiveness 
to  his  disadvantage — taking  his  revenge  on  him,  by  making  the 
girl  whom  he  worshipped  shrink  from  him  with  irrepressible 
loathing. 

And  in  the  lulls  of  his  rage  and  jealousy,  he  had  some 
glimpses  into  Kate's  character.  Not  that  he  was  capable  of 
thinking  about  it ;  but  flashes  of  reality  came  once  and  again 
across  the  vapours  of  passion.  He  saw  too  that  her  nerves 
came,  as  it  were,  nearer  the  surface  than  those  of  other  people, 
and  that  thence  she  was  exposed  to  those  sudden  changes  of 
feeling  w'hich  had  so  often  bewildered  him.  And  now  that 
delicate  creature  was  in  the  hands  of  Beauchamp — a  selfish  and 
vulgar-minded  fellow !  That  he  whom  he  had  heard  insult  a 
dead  woman,  and  whom  he  had  chastised  for  it,  should  dare  to 
touch  Kate  !  His  very  touch  was  defilement.  But  what  could 
he  do  ?  Alas !  he  could  only  hate.  And  what  was  that,  if 
Kate  should  love  !  But  she  could  not  love  him  already.  He 
would  tell  her  what  kind  of  a  person  he  was.  But  she  would 
not  believe  him,  and  would  set  it  down  to  jealousy.  And  it 
would  be  mean  to  toll  her.  Was  Kate  then  to  be  left  to  such 
a  fate  m  ithout  a  w^ord  of  warning  ?  He  would  tell  her,  aud  let 
her  despise  him. — And  so  the  storm  raged  all  the  way  home. 
His  only  comfort  lay  in  saying  over  aud  over  again  that  Kate 
could  not  be  in  love  with  him  yet. 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  307 

But  if  he  had  seen  Kate,  that  same  evening,  looking  up 
into  Beauchamp's  face  with  a  beauty  in  her  own  such  as  he  had 
never  beheld  there,  a  beauty  more  than  her  face  could  hold,  and 
overflowing  in  liglit  from  her  eyes,  he  would  have  found  this 
poor  reed  of  comfort  break  in  his  hand  and  pierce  his  heart. 
Xor  could  all  his  hatred  have  blinded  him  to  the  fact  that 
Beauchamp  looked  splendid — his  pale  face,  with  its  fine,  i^egular, 
clear-cut  features,  reflecting  the  glow  of  hers,  and  his  Highland 
dress  setting  ofi"  to  full  advantage  his  breadth  of  shoulders  and 
commanding  height.  Kate  had  at  last  found  one  to  whom  she 
could  look  up,  in  whom  she  could  trust  ! 

He  had  taken  her  by  storm,  and  yet  not  without  well-laid 
schemes.  For  instance,  having  discovered  her  admiration  of 
Byron,  instead  of  setting  himself,  like  Alec,  to  make  himself 
acquainted  with  that  poet,  by  which  he  could  have  gained  no 
advantage  over  her,  he  made  himself  her  pupil,  and  listened  to 
everything  she  had  to  say  about  Byron  as  to  a  new  revelation. 
•But,  at  the  same  time,  he  began  to  study  Shelley  ;  and,  in  a  few 
days,  was  able  to  introduce,  with  sufficient  application,  one  or 
two  passages  gathered  from  his  pages.  Now,  to  a  mind  like 
that  of  Kate,  with  a  strong  leaning  to  the  fantastic  and  strange, 
there  was  that  in  Shelley  which  quite  overcrowed  Byron.  She 
listened  with  breathless  wonder  and  the  feeling  that  now  at  last 
she  had  found  a  poet  just  to  her  mind,  who  could  raise  visions 
of  a  wilder  beauty  than  had  ever  crossed  the  horizon  of  her  ima- 
gination. And  the  fountain  whence  she  drank  the  charmed 
water  of  this  delight  was  the  lips  of  that  grand  youth,  all  noble- 
ness and  devotion.  And  how  wide  his  reading  must  be,  seeing 
he  knew  a  writer  so  well,  of  whom  she  had  scarcely  heard  ! 

Shelley  enabled  Beauchamp  to  make  the  same  discovery, 
with  regard  to  Kate's  peculiar  constitution,  on  the  verge  of 
which  Alec  had  lingered  so  long.  For  upon  one  occasion,  when 
he  quoted  a  few  lines  from  the  Sensitive  Plant — if  ever  there 
was  a  Sensitive  Plant  in  the  human  garden,  it  was  Kate — she 
turned  "white  with  the  whiteness  of  what  is  dead,"  shuddered, 
and  breathed  as  if  in  the  sensible  presence  of  something  dis- 
gusting. And  the  cunning  Celt  perceived  in  this  emotion  not 
merely  an  indication  of  what  he  must  avoid,  but  a  means  as  well 
of  injuring  him  whose  rival  he  had  become  for  the  sake  of  in- 
jury. Both  to  uncle  and  niece  he  had  always  spoken  of  Alec 
in  a  familiar  and  friendly  manner  ;  and  now,  he  would  occasion- 
ally drop  a  word  or  two  with  reference  to  him  and  break  of£ 
with  a  laugh. 

"  "What  ilo  you  mean,  Mr  Beauchamp  ?  "  said  Kate  on  one 
of  these  occasions. 


308  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

"  I  was  only  tb inking  how  Forbes  would  enjoy  some  lines 
I  found  in  Sbelley  yesterday." 

"  A\^bat  are  tliey  ?  " 

"  Ab,  I  must  not  repeat  tbem  to  you.  Tou  would  turn 
pale  again,  and  it  would  kill  me  to  see  your  white  face." 

Whereupon  Kate  pressed  the  question  no  further,  and  an 
additional  feeling  of  discomfort  associated  itself  with  the  name 
of  Alec  Forbes. 


CHAPTEE  LXYIII. 

I  HAVE  said  that  Mrs  Forbes  brought  Annie  home  with 
her.  For  several  months  she  lay  in  her  own  little  room  at 
Howglen.  Mrs  Forbes  was  dreadfully  anxious  about  her, 
often  fearing  much  that  her  son's  heroism  had  only  prolonged 
the  process — that  she  was  dying  notwithstanding  from  the 
eliects  of  that  awful  night.  At  length  on  a  morning  in  Feb- 
ruary, the  first  wave  of  the  feebly  returning  flow  of  the  life-tide 
visited  her  heart,  and  she  opened  her  eyes,  seekingly.  Through 
her  little  window,  at  which  in  summer  she  knew  that  the  honey- 
suckle leaned  in  as  if  peeping  and  hearkening,  she  saw  the 
country  wrapt  in  a  wanding-sheet  of  snow,  through  which 
patches  of  bright  green  had  begun  to  dawn,  just  as  her  life  had 
begun  to  show  its  returning  bloom  above  the  wan  waves  of 
death. — Sickness  is  just  a  fight  between  life  and  death. — A 
thrill  of  gladness,  too  pleasant  to  be  borne  without  tears,  made 
her  close  her  eyes.  They  throbbed  and  ached  beneath  their 
lids,  and  the  hot  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks.  It  was  not  glad- 
ness for  this  reason  or  for  that,  but  the  essential  gladness  of 
being  that  made  her  weep  :  there  lay  the  world,  white  and 
green;  and  here  lay  she,  faint  and  alive.  And  nothing  was 
wanting  to  the  gladness  and  kindness  of  Mrs  Forbes  but  the 
indescribable  aroma  of  motherhood,  which  she  was  not  divine- 
woman  enough  to  generate,  save  towards  the  oftspring  of  her 
own  body  ;  and  that  Annie  did  not  miss  much,  because  all 
knowledge  she  had  of  such  "  heavenly  health  "  was  associated 
with  the  memory  of  her  father. 

As  the  spring  advanced,  her  strength  increased,  till  she  be- 
came able  to  move  about  the  house  again.  Nothing  was  said 
of  her  return  to  the  Bruces,  who  were  not  more  desirous  of 
having  her  than  Mrs  Forbes  was  of  parting  with  her.     But  if 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  309 

there  had  ever  heen  any  danger  of  Alec's  ftilliug  in  love  with 
Annie,  there  was  much  more  now.  For  as  her  health  returned, 
it  became  evident  that  a  change  had  passed  upon  her.  She  had 
always  been  a  womanly  child  ;  now  she  was  a  childlike  woman. 
Her  eyes  had  grown  deeper,  and  the  outlines  of  her  form  more 
graceful ;  and  a  flush  as  of  sunrise  dawned  oftener  over  the 
w^hite  roses  of  her  cheeks.  She  had  ripened  under  the  snow  of 
her  sickness.  She  had  not  grown  much,  and  was  rather  under 
than  over  the  ordinary  height ;  but  her  shape  produced  the 
impression  of  tallness,  and  suggested  no  probability  of  further 
growth.  "When  first  Thomas  Crann  saw  her  after  her  illness, 
he  held  her  at  arm's  length,  and  gazed  at  her. 

"  Eh,  lassie  !  "  he  said,  "ye're  growoi  a  wumman  !  Te'll 
hae  the  bigger  hert  to  love  the  Lord  wi'.  I  thocht  he  wad  hae 
ta'en  ye  awa'  a  bairn,  afore  ever  we  had  seen  what  ye  wad  turn 
oot ;  and  sair  wad  I  hae  missed  ye,  bairn  !  And  a'  the  saii-er 
that  I  hae  lost  auld  Tibbie.  A  man  canna  do  weel  withoot 
some  woman  or  ither  to  tell  him  the  trowth.  I  wiss  sair  that 
I  hadna  been  sae  cankert  wi'  her,  whiles." 

"I  never  heard  her  say  that  ye  was  ever  cankert,  Thomas." 

"  Xo,  I  daursay  no.  She  wadna  say't.  She  wadna  say't. 
She  was  a  kin'-herted  auld  body." 

"  But  she  didna  like  to  be  ca'd  auld,"  interposed  Annie, 
wdth  a  smile  half  in  sad  reminiscence  of  her  friend's  peculiar- 
ities, half  in  gentle  humour,  seeking  to  turn  the  conversation, 
and  so  divert  Thomas  from  further  self-accusation. 

"  Aweel,  she's  nae  that  auld  noo ! "  he  answered  with  a 
responsive  smile.  "Eh,  lassie  !  it  maun  be  a  fine  thing  to  hae 
the  wisdom  o'  age  alang  wi'  the  licht  hert  and  the  Strang  banes 
o'  yowth.  I'm  growin'  some  auld  mysel.  I  was  ance  prood 
o'  that  airm  " —  and  it  was  a  brawny  right  arm  he  stretched 
out — "  and  there  was  no  man  within  ten  mile  o'  Glamerton  'at 
cud  lift  what  I  cud  lift  w'han  I  was  five-and-twenty.  I  daur- 
say that  luiks  gey  auld  to  you,  no  ? — But  ony  lad  i'  the  mason- 
trade  micht  ding  me  at  liftin'  noo  ;  for  I'm  stifi"  i'  the  back, 
and  my  airm's  jist  reid-het  whiles  wi'  the  rheumateeze  ;  and 
gin  I  lift  onything  by  ordinar',  it  gars  me  host  like  a  cat  wi' 
the  backbane  o'  a  herrin'  in  her  thrapple. — Te'll  be  gaun  back 
to  Eobert  Bruce  or  lang,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"  I  diuna  ken.  The  mistress  has  said  naething  aboot  it  yet. 
And  I'm  in  nae  hurry,  I  can  tell  ye,  Thomas." 

"  Weel,  I  daursay  no.  Te  maun  tak  a  heap  o'  care,  lass, 
that  the  plenty  and  content  ye're  livin'  in  doesna  spring  up 
and  choke  the  word." 

"Ay,  Thomas,"  answered  Annie  with  a  smile ;    "  it's  a  fine 


310  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

thing  to  hae  reamy  milk  to  yer  parritch,  in  place  o'  sky-blue  to 
meal  and  water." 

What  could  ail  the  lassie  ?  She  had  never  spoken  lightly 
about  anything  before.  Was  she  too,  like  his  old  friend  Alec, 
forgetting  the  splendour  of  her  high  calling  ? 

Such  was  the  thought  that  passed  through  Thomas's  mind  ; 
but  the  truth  was  that,  under  the  genial  influences  of  home 
tenderness  and  early  womanhood,  a  little  spring  of  gentle 
humour  had  begun  to  flow  softly  through  the  quiet  fields  of 
her  childlike  nature. 

The  mason  gazed  at  her  doubtfully,  and  was  troubled. 
Annie  saw  his  discomposure,  and  taking  his  great  hand  in  her 
two  little  ones,  looked  full  into  his  cold  grey  eyes,  and  said, 
still  smiling, 

"  Eh,  Thomas  !  wadna  ye  hae  a  body  mak'  a  grainy  fun 
whiles  whan  it  comes  o'  itsel'  like  ?  " 

But  Thomas,  anxious  about  the  state  of  mind  that  produced 
the  change,  did  not  show  himself  satisfied. 

"  We  dinna  hear  'at  the  Saviour  himsel'  ever  sae  muckle  as 
smiled."  said  he. 

"  Weel,  that  wad  hae  been  little  wonner,  wi'  what  he  had 
upo'  'm.  But  I'm  nae  sure  that  he  didna,  for  a'  that.  Fowk 
disna  aye  tell  whan  a  body  lauchs.  I'm  thinkin'  gin  ane  o'  the 
bairnies  that  he  took  upo'  's  knee, — an'  he  was  ill-pleased  wi' 
them  'at  wad  hae  sheued  them  awa', — gin  ane  o'  them  had 
hauden  up  his  wee  timmer  horsie,  wi'  a  broken  leg,  and  had 
prayed  him  to  work  a  miracle  an'  men'  the  leg,  he  wadna  hae 
wrocht  a  miracle  maybe,  I  daursay,  but  he  wad  hae  smilet,  or 
maybe  lauchen  a  wee,  and  he  wad  hae  men't  the  leg  some  gait 
or  ither  to  please  the  bairnie.  And  gin  't  had  been  me,  I  wad 
raither  hae  had  the  men'in'  o'  's  aiu  twa  ban's,  wi'  a  knife  to 
help  them  maybe,  nor  twenty  miracles  upo'  't." 

Thomas  gazed  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence.  Then  with  a 
slow  shake  of  the  head,  and  a  full-blown  smile  on  his  rugged 
face,  he  said : 

"  Te're  a  curious  cratur',  Annie.  I  dinna  richtly  ken  what 
to  mak'  o'  ye  whiles.  Te're  like  a  suckin'  bairn  and  a  gran'- 
mither  baith  in  ane.  But  I'm  thinkin',  atween  the  twa,  ye're 
maistly  i'  the  right.  And  ye  hae  set  me  richt  afore  noo. — 
Sae  ye're  nae  gaun  hame  to  the  Bruces  again  ?  " 

"  I  didna  say  that,"  answered  Annie ;  "  I  only  said  I  had 
h'ard  naething  aboot  it  yet." 

"  What  for  dinna  ye  jine  the  kirk,  noo  ?  "  said  Thomas 
abruptly,  after  having  tried  in  vain  to  find  a  gradual  inti-oduc- 
tion  to  the  question.     "  Dinna  ye  think  it's  a  deowty  to  keep 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  311 

in.  mill'    what   the    great    Shepherd   did   for   his   ain    choseu 
flock  ?  " 

"  Nae  doot  o'  that,  Thomas.  But  I  never  thocht  o'  sic  a 
thing.     I  dinna  even  ken  'at  I  am  aue  o'  the  elec'." 

"  Te  dinna  ken  yet  ?  " 

"  Ko,"  answered  Annie,  sorrowfully. 

"  I  wonner  at  that,"  returned  Thomas. 

"  And,  forby,"  resuined  Annie,  "  gin  I  war,  I'm  no  guid 
eneuch  yet.     An'  besides  that — " 

But  here  she  stopped  and  remained  silent. 

"  What  was  ye  gaun  to  say  ?  "  asked  Thomas,  encouragingly. 

But  Annie  did  not  reply.  She  looked  perplexed.  With 
the  intuition  of  sympathy  springing  from  like  thoughts,  Thomas 
guessed  what  was  moving  in  her  mind. 

"I  ken  what  ye're  thinkiu',  lassie,"  he  said.  "  Te  canna 
help  thiukin'  that  there's  some  in  oor  mids  wha  may  as  weel 
be  nameless,  for  that  they  are  no  credit  to  us,  neyther  wad  be 
to  ony  body  o'  whuch  they  war  jined  members.  Isna  that  yer 
trouble,  bairn  ?  " 

"  'Deed  is't,  in  pairt,  Thomas.  But  it's  raair  the  state  o' 
my  ain  feelin's  wi'  regaird  to  ane  in  particular,  nor  the  fac' 
that  he's  a  member  o'  the  kirk.  Gin  I  cud  be  sure  that  Mr 
Bruce  wad  aye  be  at  the  ither  en'  o'  the  seat,  I  micht  think  o' 
't.  It's  no  that  I  wadna  lat  him  tak  it.  I  daurna  meddle  wi' 
that.  But  gin  I  had  to  tak'  it  frae  his  han',  I  jist  cudna  re- 
gaird it  as  the  sacred  thing  that  it  bude  to  be  considered." 

Thomas  remained  silent,  with  downcast  thoughtful  look. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  state,  in  explanation  of  Annie's 
feelings,  that  the  Scotch,  at  the  celebration  of  the  Eucharist, 
sit  in  long  rows,  and  pass  the  bread,  each  breaking  off  a  por- 
tion for  himself,  and  the  wine,  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

The  compressed  lips  and  motionless  countenance  of  Thomas 
showed  that  he  was  thinking  more  than  he  was  prepared  to 
clothe  in  words.  After  standing  thus  for  a  few  moments,  he 
lifted  his  head,  and  returning  no  answer  to  Annie's  exposition 
of  her  feelings,  bade  \xev  good-hye,  and  walked  away. 

The  drift  of  Thomas's  reflections  I  shall  now  help  my  reader 
to  see. 

Their  appetite  for  prophecy  having  assuaged  with  the 
assuaging  flood,  the  people  of  Glamerton  had  no  capacity  for 
excitement  left.  The  consequence  was  that  the  congregations, 
especially  the  evening  congregations,  began  at  once  to  diminish. 
Having  once  ceased  to  feel  anxiety  about  some  vague  impend- 
ing vengeance,  comparatively  few  chose  to  be  rated  any  longer 
about  their  sins ;  while  some  seeing  how  in  the  spate  the  right- 


312  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

eous  were  taken  and  the  wicked  left,  felt  tliemseVes  agg  ieved, 
and  staid  at  home  on  the  Sunday  nights.  IS^or  was  the  de- 
terioration confined  to  the  congregations.  Not  only  had  the 
novelty  of  Mr  Turnbull's  style  worn  off,  but  he  felt  himself 
that  he  could  not  preach  with  the  same  fervour  as  before  ;  the 
fact  being  that  he  had  exhausted  the  electric  region  of  the 
spiritual  brain,  and  without  repose  it  could  never  fulminate 
again.  A  second  and  worse  consequence  was  that,  in  his  dis- 
satisfaction with  himself,  he  attempted  to  get  up  his  former  ex- 
citement by  preaching  as  if  he  were  still  under  its  influences. 
Upon  this  his  conscience  sternly  accused  him  of  hypocrisy  and 
pretence,  which  reacted  in  paralysis ;  and  the  whole  business 
became  wretched.  Even  his  greatest  admirers  were  compelled 
to  acknowledge  that  Mr  Turnbull  had  lost  much  of  his  unction, 
and  that  except  the  Spirit  were  poured  down  upon  them  from 
on  high,  their  prospects  were  very  disheartening.  For  even 
the  best  men  in  tlie  Churcli,  as,  following  apostolic  example 
without  regard  to  circumstance,  they  called  each  separate 
community  of  the  initiate,  were  worldly  enough  to  judge  of 
the  degree  of  heavenly  favour  shown  them,  not  by  the  love 
they  bore  to  the  truth  and  to  each  other,  not  by  the  purity  of 
their  collective  acts  and  the  prevalence  of  a  high  standard  of 
morality  in  the  individual — poor  as  even  these  divine  favours 
would  have  been  as  a  measure  of  the  divine  favour — but,  in  a 
great  degree,  by  the  success  which  attended  the  preaching  of 
their  pastor,  in  adding  to  their  esoteric  communion,  and,  still 
worse,  by  the  numbers  which  repaired  to  their  court  of  the 
Gentiles — their  exoteric  congregation.  Nor,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed, was  even  Thomas  Cranu,  in  many  things  so  wise  and 
good,  and  in  all  things  so  aspiring,  an  exception.  Pondering 
over  the  signs  of  disfavour  and  decay,  he  arrived  at  the  con- 
clusion that  there  must  be  an  Achan  in  the  camp.  And  indeed 
if  there  were  an  Achan,  he  had  known  well  enough,  for  a  long 
time,  who  would  turn  out  to  represent  that  typical  person.  Of 
course,  it  could  be  no  other  than  the  money-loving,  the  mam- 
mon-worshipping Robert  Bruce.  AVhen,  therefore,  he  found 
that  such  a  pearl  of  price  as  Annie  Anderson  was  excluded 
from  their  "  little  heaven  below,"  by  the  presence  of  this  pos- 
sible anti-typical  Achan,  he  could  not  help  feeling  his  original 
conviction  abundantly  strengthened.  But  he  did  not  see  what 
could  be  done. 

Meantime,  on  the  loving,  long-remembering  Annie  dawned 
a  great  pleasure.  James  Dow  came  to  see  her,  and  had  a  long 
interview  with  Mrs  Forbes,  the  result  of  which  she  learned 
after  his  departure.     One  of  the  farm-servaufe  who  had  beeu 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  313 

at  Howglen  for  some  years  was  going  to  leave  at  the  next 
term,  and  Mrs  Forbes  had  asked  Dow  whether  he  knew  of  one 
to  take  his  place.     Whereupon  he  had  ottered  himself,  and 
they  had  arranged  everything  for  his  taking  the  pi  sitiou  of 
grieve  or  foreman,  which  post  he  had  occupied  with  James 
Anderson,  and  was  at  present  occupying  some  ten  or  twelve 
miles  up  the  hill-country.    Few  things  could  have  pleased  Mrs 
Forbes  more ;  for  James  Dow  was  recognized  throughout  the 
country  as  the  very  pattern  of  what  a  foreman  ought  to  be  ; 
his  character  for  saving  his   employers  all  possible   expense, 
having  more  than  its  just  proportion  in  generating  this  re- 
putation ;  for  this  is  a  capacity  which,  in  a  poor  country  where 
it  is  next  to  impossible  to  be  enterprising,  will  naturally  receive 
at  least  its  full  share  of  commendation.     Of  late,  Mrs  Forbes 
had  found  it  more  difiicult  to  meet  her  current  expenses  ;  for 
Alec's  requirements  at  college  were  heavier  this  year  than  they 
had  been  before ;  so  that,  much  to  her  annoyance,  she  had 
been  compelled  to  delay  the  last  half-yearly  payment  of  Bruce's 
interest.     jN^or  could  she  easily  bear  to  recall  the  expression 
upon  his  keen  ferret-like  face  when  she  informed  him  that  it 
would  be  more  convenient  to  pay  the  money  a  month  hence. 
That  month  had  passed,  and  another,  before  she  had  been  able 
to  do  so.     For  although  the  home-expenses  upon  a  farm  in 
Scotland  are  very  small,  yet  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  money  is 
often   scarce  enough.     Now,  however,   she  hoped  that,  with 
James  Dow's  management,  things  would  go  better,  and  she 
would  be  able  to  hold  her  mental  head  a  little  higher  in  her 
own   presence.     So  she  was  happy,  knowing  nothing  of  the 
cloud  that  was  gathering  over  the  far-off"  university,  soon  to 
sweep  northward,  and  envelope  Howglen  in  its  dusky  folds. 


CHAPTER  LXIX. 


A  STATE  of  something  like  emotional  stupefiction  succeeded 
to  the  mental  tumult  of  that  evening  when  first  Alec  saw  that 
his  worst  and  wildest  forebodings  might  be  even  already  on  the 
point  of  realization.  The  poor  glimmer  of  hope  that  remained 
was  only  enough  to  show  how  terrible  was  the  darkness  around 
it.  It  was  well  for  him  that  gratitude  required  of  him  some 
ministrations  beyond  those  which  he  took  out  of  his  landlady's 
hands  the  moment  he  came  in  from  college.     His  custom  was 


314  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

to  carry  his  books  to  the  sick  man's  room,  and  wearily  pretend, 
without  even  seeming,  to  be  occupied  with  them.  While  thus 
unemployed  he  did  not  know  how  anxiously  he  was  watched 
by  the  big  blue  eyes  of  his  friend,  shining  like  two  fallen  stars 
fi'om  the  cavern  of  his  bed.  But,  as  I  have  said,  he  had  more 
to  do  for  him  than  merely  to  supply  his  few  wants  when  he 
came  home.  For  the  patient's  uneasiness  about  the  books  and 
the  catalogue  led  him  to  offer  not  only  to  minister  to  the  wants 
of  the  students  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  but  to  spend  an  hour 
or  two  every  evening  in  carrying  on  the  catalogue.  This  en- 
gagement was  a  great  relief  to  the  pro-librarian,  and  he  im- 
proved more  rapidly  thenceforth.  Whether  Alec's  labour  was 
lightened  or  not  by  the  fact  that  he  had  a  chance  of  seeing 
Kate  pass  the  windows,  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  think  any  kind  of 
emotion  lightens  labour.  And  I  think  the  labour  lightened 
his  pain  ;  and  I  know  he  was  not  so  absorbed  in  his  unhappi- 
ness,  though  at  times  the  flashes  of  a  keen  agony  broke  from 
the  dull  cloud  of  his  misery,  as  to  perform  the  duties  he  had 
undertaken  in  a  perfunctory  manner.  The  catalogue  made 
slow  but  steady  progress.     And  so  did  the  librarian. 

"  Mr  Forbes,"  said  Mr  Fraser,  looking  at  him  kindly,  one 
morning  after  the  lecture,  "  you  are  a  great  stranger  now. 
A¥on't  you  come  and  spend  to-morrow  evening  with  us  ?  We 
are  going  to  have  a  little  party.  It  is  my  birthday,  though 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why  an  old  man  like  me  should  have 
any  birthdays.  But  it's  not  my  doing.  Kate  found  it  out, 
and  she  would  have  a  merry-making.  I  think  myself  after  a 
man's  forty,  he  should  go  back  to  thirty-nine,  thirty-eight,  and 
so  on,  indicating  his  progress  towards  none  at  all.  That  gives 
him  a  good  sweep  before  he  comes  to  two,  one,  nought.  At 
which  rate  I  shall  be  thirteen  to-morrow." 

The  old  man  had  rattled  on  as  if  he  saw  the  cloud  on  Alec's 
face  and  would  dispel  it  by  kindness.  I  believe  he  was  uneasy 
about  him.  Whether  he  divined  the  real  cause  of  his  gloom, 
or  feared  that  he  was  getting  into  bad  ways,  I  cannot  tell. 

He  did  not  succeed,  however,  in  dispelling  the  cloud ;  for 
the  thought  at  this  moment  passing  through  Alec's  mind  wa^, 
that  Kate  had  wanted  the  merry-making  in  order  to  have  Beau- 
champ  there.  But  with  a  feeling  like  that  which  makes  one 
irritate  a  smarting  wound,  or  urge  on  an  aching  tooth,  he  re- 
solved to  go  and  have  his  pain  in  earnest. 

He  was  the  first  to  arrive. 

Kate  was  in  the  drawing-room  at  the  piano,  radiant  in 
n'hite — lovelier  than  ever.  She  rose  and  met  him  with  some 
erabarrassmejit,  which   she  tried  to  cover  under   more  than 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  315 

usual  kindness.  She  had  not  wished  Alec  to  be  one  of  the 
company,  knowing  it  would  make  him  unhappy  and  her  un- 
comfortable. 

"  Oh  Kate  !  "  said  Alec,  overpowered  with  her  loveliness. 

Kate  took  it  for  a  reproach,  and  making  no  reply,  withdrew 
her  hand  and  turned  away.  Alec  saw  as  she  turned  that  all 
the  light  had  gone  out  of  her  face.  •  But  that  instant  Beau- 
champ  entered,  aud  as  she  turned  once  more  to  greet  him,  the 
light  flashed  from  her  face  and  her  eyes,  as  if  her  heart  had 
been  a  fountain  of  rosy  flame.  Beauchamp  was  magnificent, 
the  rather  quiet  tartan  of  his  clan  being  lighted  up  with  all  the 
silver  and  jewels  of  which  the  dress  admits.  In  the  hilt  of  his 
dirk,  in  his  brooch,  and  for  buttons,  he  wore  a  set  of  old  family 
topazes,  instead  of  the  commoner  cairngorm,  so  that  as  he 
entered  he  flashed  golden  light  from  the  dark  green  cloud  of 
his  tartan.  Xot  observing  Alec,  he  advanced  to  Kate  with  the 
confidence  of  an  accepted  lover  ;  but  some  motion  of  her  hand 
or  glance  from  her  eyes  warned  him  in  time.  He  looked  round, 
started  a  little,  and  greeted  him  with  a  slight  bow,  of  which 
Alec  took  no  notice.  He  then  turned  to  Kate  and  began  to 
talk  in  a  low  tone,  to  which  she  listened  with  her  head  hang- 
ing like  the  topmost  bell  of  a  wild  hyacinth.  As  he  looked, 
the  last  sickly  glimmer  of  Alec's  hope  died  out  in  darkness. 
But  he  bore  up  in  bitterness,  and  a  demon  awoke  in  him 
laughing.  He  saw  the  smooth  handsome  face,  the  veil  of  so 
much  that  was  mean  aud  wretched,  bending  over  the  loveliness 
he  loved,  yet  the  demon  in  him  only  laughed. 

It  may  appear  strange  that  they  should  behave  so  like 
lovers  in  the  presence  of  any  third  person,  much  more  in  the 
presence  of  Alec.  But  Beauchamp  had  now  made  progress 
enough  to  secure  his  revenge  of  mortification ;  and  for  that, 
with  the  power  which  he  had  acquired  over  Kate's  sensitive 
nature,  he  drew  her  into  the  sphere  of  his  flaunted  triumph, 
and  made  her  wound  Alec  to  the  root  of  his  vulnerable  being. 
Had  Alec  then  seen  his  own  face,  he  would  have  seen  upon  it 
the  sneer  that  he  hated  so  upon  that  of  Beauchamp.  For  all 
wickedness  tends  to  destroy  individuality,  and  declining  natures 
assimilate  as  they  sink. 

Other  visitors  arrived,  and  Alec  found  a  strange  delight  in 
behaving  as  if  he  knew  of  no  hidden  wound,  and  his  mind  were 
in  a  state  of  absolute  neglige.  But  how  would  he  meet  the 
cold  wind  blowing  over  the  desolate  links  ? 

Some  music,  and  a  good  deal  of  provincial  talk— not  always 
less  human  and  elevating  than  the  metropolitan — followed, 
Beauchamp  moderated  his  attentions  to  Kate ;  but  Alec  saw 


316  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

that  it  was  in  compliance  with  his  desire  that,  though  reluctant, 
she  went  a  second  time  to  the  piano.  The  song  she  had  just 
sung  was  insignificant  enough  ;  but  the  second  was  one  of  the 

^ballads  of  her  old  Thuliau  nurse,  and  had  the  merit  of  an 
antique  northern  foundation  at  least,  although  it  had  evidently 
passed  through  the  hands  of  a  lowland  poet  before  it  had,  in 
its  present  form,  found  its  way  northwards  again  to  the  Shet- 

Nland  Isles.  The  first  tone  of  the  ghostly  music  startled  Alec, 
and  would  have  arrested  him  even  if  the  voice  had  not  been 
Kate's. 

"  Sweep  up  the  fliire,  Janet. 
Put  on  anitlier  peat. 
It's  a  lown  and  starry  nicht,  Janet, 
And  neither  cauld  nor  weet. 

And  it's  open  hoose  we  keep  the  nicht 

For  ony  that  may  be  oot. 
It's  the  nicht  atwecn  the  Sancts  and  Souls, 

"VVhan  the  bodiless  gang  aboot 

Set  the  chairs  back  to  the  wa',  Janet ; 

Mak'  ready  for  quaiet  fowk. 
Hao  a'  thing  as  clean  as  a  win'in'  sheet : 

They  comena  ilka  ook. 

There's  a  spale*  upo'  the  flure,  Janet ; 

And  there's  a  rowan-berry  : 
Sweep  them  into  the  fire,  Janet. — 

They'll  be  welcomer  than  merry. 

Syne  set  open  the  door,  Janet — 

Wide  open  for  wha  kens  wha ; 
As  ye  come  benu  to  yer  bed,  Janet, 

Set  it  open  to  the  wa'." 

She  set  the  chairs  back  to  the  wa', 

But  ane  made  o'  the  birk ; 
She  sweepit  the  flure,— left  that  ae  spale, 

A  lang  spale  o'  the  aik. 

The  nicht  was  lowne,  and  the  stars  sat  still, 

Aglintin'  doon  the  sky  ; 
And  the  souls  crap  oot  o'  their  mooly  graves, 

A'  dank  wi'  lyin'  by. 

She  had  set  the  door  wide  to  the  wa', 

And  blawn  the  ])cats  rosy  reid ; 
They  war  shoonless  feet  gaed  oot  and  in, 

Nor  clampit  as  they  gaed. 

Whan  midnicht  cam',  the  mither  rase — 

She  wad  gae  see  and  hear. 
Back  she  cam'  wi'  a  glowerin'  face, 

And  sloomin'  wi'  verra  fear. 

*  A  wood-shaving. 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  317 

"There's  ane  o'  them  sittiu'  afore  the  tire ! 
Janet,  gang  na  to  see  : 
Ye  left  a  chair  afore  the  fire, 

Whaur  I  tauld  ye  nae  chair  sud  be." 

Janet  she  smiled  in  her  mother's  face : 

She  had  brunt  the  roddin  reid  ; 
And  she  left  aneath  the  birken  chair 

The  spale  fi-ae  a  cothu-lid. 

She  rase  and  she  gaed  butt  the  boose, 

Aye  steekin'  door  and  door. 
Three  hours  gaed  by  or  her  mother  heard 

Her  fit  upo'  the  floor. 

But  whan  the  grey  cock  crew,  she  heard 

The  sound  o'  shoeless  feet ; 
Whan  the  red  cock  crew,  she  heard  the  door, 

And  a  sough  o'  wind  and  weet. 

And  Janet  cam'  back  wi'  a  wan  face. 

But  never  a  word  said  she ; 
No  man  ever  heard  her  voice  lood  cot, 

It  cam'  like  frae  ower  the  sea. 

And  no  man  ever  heard  her  lauch, 

Nor  yet  say  alas  or  wae  ; 
But  a  smile  aye  glimmert  on  her  wan  face, 

Like  the  moonlicht  on  the  sea. 

And  ilka  nicht  'tween  the  Sancts  and  the  Souls, 

"Wide  open  she  set  the  door  ; 
And  she  mendit  the  fire,  and  she  left  ae  chair, 

And  that  spale  upo'  the  floor. 

And  at  midnicht  she  gaed  butt  the  boose. 

Aye  steekin'  door  and  door. 
Whan  the  reid  cock  crew,  she  cam'  benn  the  hoose, 

Aye  wanner  than  afore — 

Wanner  her  face,  and  sweeter  her  smile  ; 

Till  the  seventh  All  Souls'  eve. 
Her  mother  she  heard  tlie  shoeless  feet, 

Said  "  she's  comin',  I  believe." 

But  she  camna  benn,  and  her  mother  lay ; 

For  fear  she  cudna  stan'. 
But  up  she  rase  and  benn  she  gaed, 

Whan  the  gowden  cock  had  crawn. 

And  Janet  sat  upo'  the  chair, 

"WTtdte  as  the  day  did  daw  ; 
Her  smile  was  a  sunlight  left  on  the  sea. 

Whan  the  sun  has  gane  awa'. 

Alec  had  never  till  now  heard  her  sing  really.  Wild  music 
and  eerie  ballad  together  filled  and  absorbed  him.  He  Avaa 
still  gazing  at  her  lovely  head,  when  the  last  wailing  sounds 


318  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

of  the  accompaniment  ceased,  and  her  face  turned  round, 
white  as  Janet's.  She  gave  one  glance  of  unutterable  feeling 
up  into  Beaucharap's  face,  and  hiding  her  own  in  her  handker- 
chief, sobbed  out,  "  You  would  make  me  sing  it !  "  and  left 
the  room. 

Alec's  heart  swelled  with  indignant  sympathy.  But  what 
could  he  do  ?  The  I'oom  became  insupportable  the  moment 
she  had  quitted  it,  and  he  made  his  way  to  the  door.  As  he 
opened  it,  be  could  not  help  glancing  at  Beaucbamp.  Instead 
of  the  dismay  he  expected,  he  saw  triumph  on  his  pale  counte- 
nance, and  in  the  curl  of  his  scarred  lip. — He  flew  frantic  from 
the  house.  Tlie  sky  was  crowded  with  the  watchings  of  starry 
eyes.  To  his  fancy,  they  were  like  Beauchamp's,  and  he  bated 
them.  Seeking  refuge  from  their  gaze,  he  rushed  to  the 
library,  and  threw  himself  on  a  heap  of  foreign  books,  which 
he  had  that  morning  arranged  for  binding.  A  ghostly  glimmer 
from  the  snow,  and  the  stars  overhead,  made  the  darkness 
thinner  about  the  windows ;  but  there  was  no  other  light  in 
the  place  ;  and  there  lie  lay,  feeling  darker  within  than  the 
night  around  him.  Kate  was  weeping  in  her  room  ;  that  con- 
temptible ape  had  wounded  her ;  and  instead  of  being  sorry 
for  it,  was  rejoicing  in  his  power.  And  he  could  not  go  to 
her;  she  would  receive  no  comfort  from  him. 

It  was  a  bitter  hour.  Eternity  must  be  very  rich  to  make 
up  for  some  such  hours. 

He  had  lain  a  long  time  with  his  face  down  upon  the  books, 
when  he  suddenly  started  and  listened.  He  heard  the  sound 
of  an  opening  door,  but  not  of  the  door  in  ordinary  use. 
Thinking  it  proceeded  from  some  thievish  intent,  he  kept  still. 
There  was  another  door,  in  a  corner,  covered  with  books,  but 
it  was  never  opened  at  all.  It  communicated  with  a  part  of 
the  buildings  of  the  quadrangle  which  had  been  used  for  the 
abode  of  the  students  under  a  former  economy.  It  had  been 
abandoned  now  for  many  years,  as  none  slept  any  longer  with- 
in the  walls  of  the  college.  Alec  knew  all  this,  but  he  did  not 
know  that  there  was  also  a  communication  between  this  empty 
region  and  Mr'  Eraser's  house;  or  that  the  libi'ary  had  been 
used  before  as  a  trj/st  by  Beaucbamp  and  Kate. 

The  door  closed,  and  the  light  of  a  lantern  flashed  to  the 
ceiling.  Wondering  that  such  a  place  should  excite  the 
cupidity  of  housebreakei's,  yet  convinced  that  such  the  in- 
truders were.  Alec  moved  gently  into  the  embrasure  of  one  of 
the  windows,  against  the  corner  of  which  abutted  a  screen  of 
book-shelves.  A  certain  light  rustling,  however,  startled  him 
into  doubt,  and  the  doubt  soon  passed  into  painful  conviction. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEX.  319 

^'  Why  were  you  so  unkind,  Patrick  ?  "  said  the  voice  of 
Kate.  "  You  know  it  kills  me  to  sing  that  ballad.  I  cannot 
bear  it." 

"  Why  should  you  mind  singing  an  old  song  your  nurse 
taught  you  ?  " 

"  My  nurse  learned  it  from  my  mother.  Oh  Patrick  !  what 
tcoiild  my  mother  say  if  she  knew  that  I  met  you  this  way  ? 
Tou  shouldn't  ask  me.  You  know  I  can  refuse  you  nothing ; 
and  you  should  be  generous." 

Alec  could  not  hear  his  answer,  and  he  knew  why.  That 
scar  on  his  lip  !     Kate's  lips  there  ! 

Of  course  Alec  ought  not  to  have  listened.  But  the  ftxct 
was,  that,  for  the  time,  all  consciousness  of  free  will  and  capa- 
bility of  action  had  vanished  from  his  mind.  His  soul  was 
but  a  black  gulf  into  which  poured  the  Phlegethoutic  cataract 
of  their  conversation. 

"  Ah,  yes,  Patrick  !  Kisses  are  easy.  But  you  hurt  me 
terribly  sometimes.  And  1  know  why.  You  hate  my  cousin, 
poor  boy ! — and  you  want  me  to  hate  him  too.  I  wonder  if 
you  love  me  as  much  as  he  does  ! — or  did  ;  for  surely  I  have 
been  unkind  enough  to  cure  him  of  loving  me.  Surely  you 
are  not  jealous  of  him  ?  " 

"  Jealous  of  liim  ! — I  should  think  not !  " 

Human  expression  could  have  thrown  no  more  scorn  into 
the  word. 

"  But  you  hate  him." 

"  I  don't  hate  him.  He's  not  worth  bating — the  awkward 
steer  ! — although  I  confess  I  have  cause  to  dislike  him,  and 
have  some  gratification  in  mortifying  him.  But  he's  not  a 
pleasant  subject  to  me." 

"  His  mother  has  been  very  kind  to  me.  I  wish  you  would 
make  it  up  with  him  for  my  sake,  Patrick.  He  may  be  un- 
couth and  awkward — I  don't  know — but  that's  no  reason  for 
hating  him.  I  love  you  so  that  I  could  love  anybody  that 
loved  you.  You  don't  know  how  I  love  you,  Patrick — though 
you  are  unkind  sometimes.  The  world  used  to  look  so  cold, 
and  narrow,  and  grey  ;  but  now  there  is  a  flush  like  sunset 
over  everything,  and  I  am  so  happy  !  Patrick,  don't  make  me 
do  things  before  my  cousin  that  will  hurt  him." 

Alec  knew  that  she  pressed  closer  to  Beauchamp,  and 
offered  him  her  face. 

"Listen,  my  Kate,"  said  Beauchamp.  "I  know  there  are 
things  you  cannot  bear  to  hear ;  but  you  must  hear  this." 

"  No,  no,  not  now  !  "  answered  Kate,  shuddering. 

Alec  knew  how  she  looked — saw  her  with  the  eyes  of  his 


320  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

memory  as  she  had  looked  once  or  twice — and  listened  uncon- 
scious of  any  existence  bub  that  of  bearing. 

"  You  must,  Kate,  and  you  shall,"  said  Beaucbamp.  "  You 
asked  me  only  yesterday  bow  I  came  by  that  scar  on  my  lip. 
I  will  tell  you.  I  rebuked  that  cousin  of  yours  for  unmanly 
behaviour  in  the  dissecting-room,  the  very  first  time  he  entered 
it.    He  made  no  reply  ;  but  when  we  came  out,  he  struck  me." 

The  icy  mood  passed  away,  and  such  a  glow  of  red  anger 
rushed  through  Alec's  veins,  that  be  felt  as  if  the  hot  blast 
from  molten  metal  were  playing  upon  bis  face.  That  Kate 
should  marry  such  a  man !  The  same  moment  be  stood  in  the 
light  of  the  lantern,  with  one  word  on  his  lips  : 

"  Liar  !  " 

Beaucbamp's  baud  sprang  to  the  hilt  of  his  dirk.  Alec 
laughed  with  bitter  contempt. 

"  Poob  !  "  be  said  ;  "  even  you  will  not  say  I  am  a  coward. 
Do  if  you  dare  !  " 

After  her  first  startled  cry,  Kate  had  stood  staring  and 
trembling.  Beaucbamp's  presence  of  miiid  returned.  He 
thrust  bis  half-drawn  dirk  into  its  sheath,  and  with  a  curl  of 
the  scarred  lip,  said  coldly — 

"  Eaves-dropping." 

"  Lying,"  retorted  Alec. 

"  Well,  1  must  say,"  I'eturned  Beaucbamp,  assuming  bis 
most  polished  tone,  "that  this  kind  of  conversation  is  at  least 
unusual  in  the  presence  of  a  lady." 

Without  making  him  any  reply,  Alec  turned  to  Kate. 

"  Kate,"  be  said,  "  I  swear  to  you  that  I  struck  him  only 
after  fair  warning,  after  insult  to  myself,  and  insult  to  the 
dead.  He  did  not  know  that  I  was  able  to  give  him  the  chas- 
tisement be  deserved." 

I  doubt  if  Kate  beard  any  of  this  speech.  She  had  been 
leaning  against  a  book-case,  and  from  it  she  now  slipped  side- 
ways to  the  floor. 

"  You  brute !  "  said  Beaucbamp.  "  You  will  answer  to  me 
for  this." 

"  When  you  please,"  returned  Alec.  "  Meantime  you  will 
leave  this  room,  or  I  will  make  you." 

"  Go  to  the  devil !  "  said  Beaucbamp,  again  laying  his  band 
on  his  dirk. 

"  You  can  claim  fair  play  no  more  than  a  wolf,"  said  Alec, 
keeping  his  eye  on  his  enemy's  hand.  "  You  had  better  go. 
-I  have  only  to  ring  this  bell  and  the  sacrist  will  be  here." 

"  That  is  your  regard  for  your  cousin  1  You  would  expose 
her  to  the  servants  !  " 


ALEC   FORBES  OF   HOWGLEN.  321 

"  I  will  expose  lier  to  anything  rather  than  to  you.  I  have 
held  my  tongue  too  long." 

"  And  you  will  leave  her  lying  here  ?  " 

"  You  will  leave  her  lying  here." 

"  That  is  your  revenge,  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  want  no  revenge  even  on  you,  Beauchamp.     Go." 

"  I  will  neither  forestall  nor  forget  mine,"  said  Beauchamp, 
as  he  turned  and  went  out  into  the  quadrangle. 

When  Alec  came  to  think  about  it,  he  coidd  not  under- 
stand the  ease  of  his  victory.  He  did  not  know  what  a  power 
their  first  encounter  had  given  him  over  the  inferior  nature  of 
Beauchamp,  in  whom  the  animal,  unsupported  by  the  moral, 
was  cowed  before  the  animal  in  Forbes,  backed  by  the  sense  of 
right. 

And  above  all  things  Beauchamp  hated  to  find  himself  in 
an  awkward  position,  which  certainly  would  have  been  his  case 
if  Alec  had  rung  for  the  sacrist.  jSTor  was  he  capable  of  act- 
ing well  on  the  spur  of  any  moment.  He  must  have  plans : 
those  he  would  carry  out  remorselessly. — So  he  went  away  to 
excogitate  further  revenge.  But  he  was  in  love  with  Kate 
just  enough  to  be  uneasy  as  to  the  result  of  Alec's  interview 
with  her. 

Eeturning  to  Kate,  Alec  found  her  moaning.  He  sup- 
ported her  head  as  she  had  done  for  him  in  that  old  harvest 
field,  and  chafed  her  chilly  hands.  Before  her  senses  had  quite 
returned,  she  began  to  talk,  and,  after  several  inarticulate  at- 
tempts, her  murmured  words  became  plain. 

"  Xever  mind,  dear,"  she  said;  "the  boy  is  wild.  He 
doesn't  know  what  he  says.  Oh,  Patrick,  my  heart  is  aching 
with  love  to  you.  It  is  good  love,  I  know  ;  and  you  must  be 
kind  to  me,  and  not  make  me  do  what  I  don't  like  to  do.  And 
you  must  forgive  my  poor  cousin,  for  he  did  not  mean  to  tell 
lies.  He  fancies  you  bad,  because  1  love  you  so  much  more 
than  him.  But  you  know  I  can't  help  it,  and  I  daresay  he 
can't  either." 

Alec  felt  as  if  a  green  flame  were  consuming  his  brain.  Ana 
the  blood  surged  so  into  his  head  and  eyes,  that  he  saw  flashes 
of  fire  between  him  and  Kate.  He  could  not  remain  in  such  a 
false  position,  with  Kate  taking  him  for  her  lover.  But  what 
an  awful  shock  it  would  be  to  her  when  she  discovered  the 
truth  !  How  was  it  to  be  avoided  ?  He  must  get  her  home 
before  she  recovered  quite.  For  this  there  was  but  one  chance, 
and  that  lay  in  a  bold  venture.  Mr  Eraser's  door  was  just 
across  a  corner  of  the  quadrangle.  He  would  carry  her  to  her 
own  room.     The  guests  must  be  gone,  and  it  was  a  small 

21 


322  ALEC   rOEBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

•  houselioid,  so  that  the  chance  of  effecting  it  undiscovered  was 
a  good  one.  He  did  effect  it  ;  in  three  minutes  more  he  had 
laid  her  on  her  own  bed,  had  rung  her  bell,  and  had  sped  out 
of  the  house  as  fast  and  as  quietly  as  he  could. 

His  gratification  at  having  succeeded  in  escaping  Kate's 
recognition,  bore  him  up  for  a  little,  but  before  he  reached 
home  his  heart  felt  like  a  burnt-out  volcano. 

Meantime  Mr  Cupples  had  been  fretting  over  his  absence, 
for  he  had  come  to  depend  very  much  upon  Alec.  At  last  he 
had  rung  the  bell,  knowing  that  Mrs  Leslie  was  out,  and  that 
it  would  be  answered  by  a  dirty  girl  in  nailed  shoes  turned 
down  at  the  heel :  she  would  be  open  to  a  bribe.  JN^or  did  she 
need  much  persuasion  besides.  Off  she  ran  with  his  empty 
bottle,  to  get  it  filled  at  the  grocer's  over  the  way. 

When  Alec  came  home,  he  found  his  friend  fast  asleep  in 
bed,  the  room  smelling  strongly  of  toddy,  and  the  bottle  stand- 
ing on  the  table  beside  the  empty  tumbler.  Paint  in  body, 
mind,  and  spirit,  as  if  from  the  sudden  temptation  of  an  unholy 
power,  he  caught  up  the  bottle.  The  elixir  mortis  flowed 
gurgling  from  the  narrow  neck  into  the  tumbler  which  Mr 
Cupples  had  lately  emptied.  Heedless  and  reckless,  he  nearly 
filled  it,  and  was  just  lifting  it  to  his  lips,  when  a  cry  half- 
moulded  into  a  curse  rang  from  the  bed,  and  the  same  instant 
the  tumbler  was  struck  from  his  hand.  It  flew  in  fragmeuts 
against  the  grate,  and  the  spirit  rushed  in  a  roaring  flame  of 
demoniacal  wrath  up  the  chimney. 

"Damn  you!"  half-shrieked,  half-panted  Mr  Cupples  in 
his  night-shirt,  at  Alec's  elbow,  still  under  the  influence  of  the 
same  spirit  he  had  banned  on  its  way  to  Alec  Forbes's  empty 
house — "  damn  you,  bantam !  ye've  broken  my  father's  tum- 
ler.  De'il  tak'  ye  for  a  vaigabon' !  I've  a  guid  miu'  to  thraw 
the  neck  o'  ye !  " 

Seeing  Mr  Cupples  was  only  two-thirds  of  Alec's  lieight, 
and  oue-half  of  his  thickness,  the  threat,  as  he  then  stood,  was 
rather  ludicrous.  Miserable  as  he  was.  Alec  could  not  help 
laugliing. 

"  Ye  may  lauch,  bantam  !  but  I  want  no  companion  in  hell 
to  cast  his  damnation  in  my  teeth.  Gin  ye  touch  that  bottle 
again,  faith,  I'll  brain  ye,  and  sen'  ye  into  the  ither  warl'  witli- 
oot  that  handle  at  least  for  Sawtan  to  catch  a  grip  o'  ye  by. 
And  there  may  be  a  handle  soniewhaur  o'  the  richt  side  o'  ye 
for  some  saft-hertit  angel  to  lay  han'  upo'  and  gie  yo  a  lift 
whaur  ye  ill  deserve  to  gang,  ye  thrawn  buckie  !  Efter  a'  that 
I  hae  said  to  ye  ! — Damn  ye  !  " 

Alec  burst  into  a  loud  roar  of  lauirhter.    For  there  was  the 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  3"23 

little  man  standing  in  his  shirt,  shaking  a  trembling  fist  at 
him,  stammering  with  eagerness,  and  half-choked  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  Gang  to  yer  bed,  Mr  Cupples,  or  ye'U  tak'  yer  deith  o' 
cauld.     Luik  here." 

And  Alec  seized  the  bottle  once  more.  Mr  Cupples  flew 
at  him,  and  would  have  knocked  the  bottle  after  the  glass,  had 
not  Alec  held  it  high  above  his  reach,  exclaiming, 

"  Toots,  man  !  I'm  gaein'  to  pit  it  intil  its  aiu  neuk.  Gang 
ye  to  yer  bed,  and  lippen  to  me." 

"  Te  gie  me  yer  word,  ye  winna  pit  it  to  yer  mou'  ?  " 

"I  do,"  answered  Alec. 

The  same  moment  Mr  Cupples  was  floundering  on  the  bed 
in  a  perplexed  attempt  to  get  under  the  bed-clothes.  A  violent 
fit  of  coughing  was  the  consequence  of  the  exertion. 

"  Te're  like  to  toom  yer  aiu  kist  afore  ye  brain  my  pan, 
Mr  Cupples,"  said  Alec. 

"  Hand  yer  tongue,  and  lat  me  host  (cough)  in  peace," 
panted  Mr  Cupples. 

"When  the  fit  was  over,  he  lay  still,  and  stared  at  Alec. 
Alec  had  sat  down  in  Mr  Cupples's  easy-chair,  and  was  staring 
at  the  fire. 

"I  see,"  muttered  Mr  Cupples.  "This'U  do  no  longer. 
The  laddie's  gaein'  to  the  dogs  for  want  o'  bein'  luikit  efter. 
I  maun  be  up  the  morn.  It's  thae  wimmen  !  thae  wimmen ! 
Puir  things  !  they  canna  aye  help  it ;  but,  de'il  tak'  them  for 
bonnie  oolets  !  mony's  the  fine  laddie  they  drive  into  the  cluiks 
o'  auld  Homey.  Michtna  some  gran'  discovery  be  made  in 
Pheesiology,  to  enable  the  warl'  to  gang  on  wantin'  them  ? 
But,  Lord  preserve  me !  I  wad  hae  naething  left  worth 
greetin'  aboot !  " 

He  hid  his  face  in  the  bed-clothes. 

Alec  hearing  part  of  this  muttered  discourse,  had  grown 
attentive,  but  tliere  was  nothing  more  forthcoming.  He  sat 
for  a  little,  staring  helplessly  into  the  fire.  The  world  was 
very  blank  and  dismal. 

Then  he  rose  to  go  to  bed  ;  for  jMr  Cupples  did'  not  require 
him  now.  Finding  him  fast  asleep  under  the  bed-clothes,  he 
made  him  as  comfortable  as  he  could.  Then  he  locked  the 
closet  where  the  whisky  was,  and  took  the  key  with  him. 

Their  mutual  care  in  this  respect  was  comical.    _ 


324 


CHAPTEE  LXX. 

The  next  morning,  x\lec  saw  Mr  Cupples  in  bed  before  he 
left.  His  surprise  therefore  was  great  when,  entering  the 
library  after  morning  lectures,  he  found  him  seated  in  his  usual 
place,  hard  at  work  on  his  catalogue.  Except  that  he  was  yet 
thinner  and  paler  than  before,  the  only  diflerence  in  his  ap- 
pearance was  that  his  eyes  were  brighter  and  his  complexion 
was  clearer. 

"  Tou  here,  Mr  Cupples  !"  he  exclaimed. 
"What  garred  ye  lock  the  press  last  nicht,  ye  deevil  ?"  re- 
turned the  librarian,  paying  no  attention  to  Alec's  expression 
of  surprise.     "  But  I  say,  bantam,"  he  continued,  not  waiting 
for  a  reply,  which  indeed  was  unnecessary,  "  ye  hae  dune  yer 
wark  weei — verra  near  as  weel's  I  cud  hae  dune't  mysel'." 
"I'm  sure,  Mr  Cupples,  it  was  the  least  thing  I  could  do." 
"  Ye  impident  cock  !     It  was  the  verra  best  you  cud  do,  or 
yewadna  hae  come  within  sicht  o'  me.     I  mayna  be  muckle  at 
thrashin'  attoarneys,  or  cuttin'  up  deid  corpuses,  but  I  defy  ye 
to  come  u.p  to  me  at  onything  conneckit  wi'  buiks." 

"  Faith  !  Mr  Cupples,  ye  may  gang  farther  nor  that.  Efter 
what  ye  hae  dune  for  me,  gin  I  war  a  general,  ye  sud  lead  the 
Eorlorn  Hope." 

"  Ay,  ay.  It's  a  forlorn  hope,  a'  'at  I'm  fit  for,  Alec  Forbes," 
returned  Cupples  sadly. 

Tliis  struck  Alec  so  near  his  own  grief  that  he  could  not 
reply  with  even  seeming  cheerfulness.  He  said  nothing.  Mr 
Cupples  resumed. 

"  I  hae  twa  three  words  to  say  to  you.  Alec  Forbes.  Can 
ye  believe  in  a  man  as  weel's  ye  can  in  a  wumman  ?" 

"I  can  believe  in  you,  Mr  Cupples.  That  I'll  sweir  till."* 
"  Weel,  jist  sit  doon  there,  and  carry  on  frae  whaur  ye  loot 
sit.  Syne  efter  the  three  o'clock  lecture — wha  is't  ye' re  attcn'in' 
this  session  ? — we'll  gang  doon  to  Luckie  Cumstie's,  and  hae  a 
moufu'  o'  denner — she  '11  do  her  best  for  me — an'  I'll  hae  jist  a 
tumler  o'  toddy — but  de'il  a  drap  sail  ye  hae,  bantam — and 
de'il  a  word  will  I  say  to  ye  there,  liut  we'll  come  back  here, 
and  i'  the  gloamiu',  I'll  gie  ye  a  bit  episode  i'  my  life. — Episode 
did  I  ca'  'it  ?  Faith  it's  my  life  itsel',  and  no  worth  muckle, 
eyther.  Te'll  be  the  first  man  that  ever  I  tell't  it  till.  And 
ye  may  judge  o'  my  regaird  for  ye  frae  that  fac'." 

Alec  worked  away  at  his  catalogue,  and  tlion  attended  tlie 
afternoon  lecture.     The  dinner  at  Luckie  Cumstie's  followed — 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  325 

of  the  plainest,  but  good.  Alec's  trouble  had  not  yet  afiected 
the  region  iu  which  Paley  seats  the  organ  of  happiness.  And 
while  an  appetite  exists,  a  dinner  will  be  interesting.  Just  as 
the  gloaming  was  fading  into  night,  they  went  back  to  the 
library. 

"  Will  I  rin  ower  to  the  sacrist's  for  a  licht  ?  "  asked  Alec. 

"  Xa,  na  ;  lat  be.     The  mirk's  mercifii',  whiles." 

"  I  canna  unnerstan'  ye,  Mr  Cupples.  Sin  ever  I  kent  ye 
i'  this  library,  I  never  kent  ye  bide  the  oncome  o'  the  nicht. 
As  sune's  the  gloamin'  began  to  fa',  ye  aye  flew  to  yer  hat,  and 
oot  at  the  door  as  gin  there  had  been  a  ghaist  gettin'  its  banes 
thegither  oot  o'  the  dark  to  come  at  ye." 

"  Maybe  sae  there  was,  bantam.     Sae  nana  o'  your  jokin'." 

"I  didna  mean  to  anger  ye,  Mr  Cupples." 

"  "Whaur  naething's  meant,  naething's  dune.  I'm  nae  an- 
gert.  And  that  ye'U  sune  see.  Sit  ye  doon  there,  and  tak  yer 
plaid  aboot  ye,  or  ye'U  be  cauld." 

"  Te  hae  nae  plaid  yersel.  Te're  mair  like  to  be  cauld  nor 
I  am." 

"  I  weir  my  plaid  o'  my  inside.  Te  haena  had  ony  toddy. 
Deil's  broo  !  it  may  weel  baud  a  body  warm.  It  comes  frae  a 
bet  quarter." 

The  open  oak  ceiling  overhead  was  getting  very  dark  by 
this  time  ;  and  the  room,  divided  and  crowded  with  books  in 
all  directions,  left  little  free  course  to  the  light  that  struggled 
through  the  dusty  windqws.  The  friends  seated  themselves  on 
the  lower  steps  of  an  open  circular  oak  staircase  which  wound 
up  to  a  gallery  running  round  the  walls. 

"  Efter  I  had  taen  my  degree,"  began  Mr  Cupples,  "  frae 
the  ban'  o'  this  same  couthy  auld  mither,  I  heard  o'  a  grit  lee- 
brary  i'  the  north — I  winna  say  whaur — that  wantit  the  ban' 
o'  a  man  that  kenned  what  he  was  aboot,  to  pit  in  dacent  order, 
sae  that  a  body  cud  lay  his  ban's  upon  a  buik  whan  he  wantit 
it,  and  no  be  i'  the  condition  o'  Tantalus,  wi'  watter  at  the 
mou,  but  nane  for  the  hause  (throat).  Dinna  imaigin'  it  was 
a  public  library.  Na,  na.  It  belonged  to  a  grit  an'  gran' 
boose — the  Lord  hae  respec  tiil't,  for  it's  no  joke  o'  a  hoose 
that — as  I  weel  kent  afore  a'  was  ower !  Weel,  I  wrought 
awa',  likin'  the  wark  weel,  for  a  bulk's  the  bonniest  thing  i' 
the  warl'  but  ane,  and  there's  no  dirl  (thrill)  in't  whan  ye 
lay  ban's  upo'  't,  as  there  is,  guid  kens,  in  the  ither.  Man,  ye 
had  better  lay  ban's  upon  a  torpedo,  or  a  galvanic  battery,  nor 
upon  a  woman — I  mean  a  woman  that  ye  hae  ony  attraction 
till — for  she'll  gar  ye  dirl  till  ye  dinna  ken  yer  thoomb  frae 
yer  muckle  tae.     But  I  was  speikin'  aboot  bulks  an'  no  aboot 


326  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

women,  only  somehoo  whatever  a  man  begins  wi',  he'll  aye  en' 
aff  wi'  the  same  thing.  The  Lord  hae  a  care  -o'  them,  for 
they're  awfii'  oraters  !  They're  no  like  ither  fowk  a'thegither. 
"Weel,  ye  see,  I  had  a  room  till  mysel',  forhy  the  library  an'  my 
bedroom — an'  a  gran'  place  tliat  was !  I  didna  see  onything  o' 
the  family,  for  I  had  my  denner  and  my  wine  and  'a  thing 
human  stammack  cud  desire  served  up  till  me  i'  my  ain  room. 
But  ae  day,  my  denner  was  made  up  o'  ae  mess  efter  anither, 
vera  fine  nae  doot,  but  unco  queer  and  ootlandish,  and  I  had 
nae  appeteet,  and  I  cudna  eat  it.  Sae  I  rase,  afore  my  ordinar' 
time,  and  gaed  back  to  my  wark.  I  had  taen  twa  or  three 
ghasses  o'  a  dooms  fine  tipple  they  ca'  Madeira,  an'  a  moufu'  o' 
cheese — that  was  a'.  Weel,  I  sat  doon  to  my  catalogue  there, 
as  it  micht  be  here ;  but  I  hadna  sat  copyin'  the  teetles  o'  the 
buiks  laid  out  upo'  the  muckle  table  afore  me,  for  mair  nor  twa 
minutes,  whan  I  heard  a  kin'  o'  a  reestlin',  an'  I  thocht  it  was 
mice,  to  whilk  I'm  a  deidly  enemy  ever  sin  they  ate  half  o'  a 
first  edition  o'  the  Fairy  Queen,  conteenin'  only  the  first  three 
buiks,  ye  ken,  o'  whilk  they  consumed  an'  nae  doot  assimilated 
ae  haili  bulk  and  full  a  half  o'  anither.  But  whan  I  luikit  up, 
what  sud  I  see  but  a  wee  leddy,  in  a  goon  the  colour  o'  a  clood 
that's  takin'  nae  pairt  i'  the  sunset,  but  jist  lookin'  on  like, 
stan'in  afore  the  buik-shelves  i'  the  further  en'  o'  the  room. 
Noo  I'm  terrible  lang-sichtit,  and  I  had  pitten  the  buiks  i'  that 
pairt  a'  richt  already  wi'  my  ain  ban' — and  I  saw  her  put  her 
han'  upon  a  buik  that  was  no  fit  for  her.  I  winna  say  what  it 
was.  Some  hermaphrodeet  cratur  had  written't  that  had  no 
respec  for  man  or  woman,  an'  whase  neck  sud  hae  been  thrawn 
by  the  midwife,  for  that  buik  cam  o'  sparin'  o'  'm  ! 

"  '  Dinna  touch  that  buik,  my  bonny  leddy,'  I  cried.  '  It's 
awfu'  fu'  o'  dist  and  stoor.  It'll  smoi'e  ye  to  open  the  twa 
brods  o'  't.  Yer  rosy  goon'll  be  clean  blaudit  wi'  the  stew 
{dust)  o'  't.' 

"  She  startit  and  luikit  roon  some  frichtit  like,  and  I  rase 
an'  gaed  across  the  flure  till  her.  And  her  face  grew  bonnier 
as  I  cam  nearer  till  her.  Her  nose  an'  her  twa  eebrees  jist 
min'd  ye  upo'  the  picturs  o'  the  Holy  Ghost  comin'  doon  like 
a  doo ;  and  oot  aneath  ilka  wing  there  luikit  a  hert  o'  licht — 
that  was  her  twa  een,  that  gaed  throu  and  throu  me  as  gin  I 
had  been  a  warp  and  they  twa  shuttles ;  and  faith  !  they  made 
o'  my  life  and  o'  me  what  it  is  and  I  am.  They  wove  the  wab 
o'  me. 

"  Ay.  They  gaed  oot  and  in,  and  throu  and  throu,  and  back 
and  fore,  and  roon  and  aboot,  till  there  wasna  a  nerve  or  a  fibre 
o'  my  beiu',  but  they  had  twisted  it  up  jist  as  a  spither  does  a 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEX.  327 

flee  afore  he  sooks  the  life  oot  o'  't.  But  that's  a  pro- 
lepsis." 

" '  Are  you  the  librarian  ? '  said  she,  saft  and  sma',  like  her- 
sel'. 

" '  That  I  am,  mem,'  said  I.  '  My  name's  Cupples — at  your 
service,  mem.' 

"  '  I  was  looking,  Mr  Cupples,'  said  she,  '  for  some  book  to 
help  me  to  learn  Gaelic.     I  want  very  much  to  read  Gaelic' 

"  '  Weel,  mem,'  said  I, '  gin  it  had  been  ony  o'  the  Eomance 
languages,  or  ony  ane  o'  the  Teutonic  breed,  I  micht  hae  gien 
ye  a  lift.  But  I  doot  ye  maun  bide  till  ye  gang  to  Edinburgh, 
or  Aberdeen,  whaur  ye'll  easy  fa'  in  wi'  some  lang-leggit  bejan 
that'll  be  prood  to  instruc'  ye,  and  coont  himsel'  ower  weel 
paid  wi'  the  sicht  o'  yer  bonny  face.' 

"  She  turned  some  reid  at  that,  and  I  was  feared  that  I  had 
angert  her.  But  she  gied  a  sma'  lauch,  and  oot  at  the  door  she 
gaed,  wi'  her  'rosy  fleece  o'  fire'  lowin'  and  glimmerin'  aboot 
her,  jist  like  ane  o'the  seraphims  that  auld  Crashaw  sings  aboot. 
Only  she  was  gey  sma'  for  a  seraph,  though  they're  nae  ower 
big.  Weel,  ye  see,  that  was  the  first  time  I  saw  her.  And  I 
thochtna  ower  muckle  mair  aboot  her.  But  in  a  day  or  twa 
there  she  was  again.  And  she  had  a  hantle  to  speir  at  me 
aboot ;  and  it  took  a'  the  knowledge  I  had  o'  buiks  in  general 
to  answer  her  questions.  In  fac  I  was  whiles  compelled  to 
confess  my  ignorance,  which  is  no  pleesant  whan  a  man  wants 
to  stan'  weel  wi'  a  bonny  crater  that  spiers  questons.  "Whan 
she  gaed,  I  gaed  efter  her,  followin'  aboot  at  her — i'  my  thochts, 
I  mean — like  a  hen  efter  her  ae  chucken.  She  was  bonnier 
this  time  than  the  last.  She  had  tired  o'  the  rosy  clood,  and 
she  had  on  a  bonny  goon  o'  black  silk,  sae  modest  and  sae  rich, 
wi'  diamond  buttons  up  .the  front  o'  the  briest  o'  't.  "Weel,  to 
mak  a  lang  story  short,  and  the  shorter  the  better,  for  it's  nae 
a  pleesant  ane  to  me,  she  cam  aftener  and  aftener.  And  she 
had  sae  muckle  to  say  and  speir  aboot,  that  at  last  we  had  to 
tak  doon  buiks,  and  I  had  to  clear  a  neuk  o'  the  table.  At 
lenth  I  cam  to  luik  for  her  as  reglar  as  gin  she  had  been  a 
ghaist,  and  the  time  that  chappit  upo'  the  auld  clock  had  be- 
lougt  to  the  midnicht  instead  o'  the  mornin'.  Te'll  be  won- 
nerin'  what  like  she  was.  As  I  tell't  ye,  she  was  a  wee  body, 
wi'  muckle  black  een,  that  lay  quaiet  in  her  face  and  never  cam 
oot  till  they  war  wantit,  an'  a  body  gimp  and  sma',  but  roon' 
and  weel  proportioned  throughoot.  Her  hand  and  her  fit  war 
jist  past  expression  bonny.  And  she  had  a'  her  features  con- 
formin' — a'  sma'  but  nane  o'  them  ower  sma'  in  relation  to  ane 
anither.     And  she  had  a  licht  way  wi'  her,  that  was  jist  daziu'. 


328  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

She  seemed  to  touch  ilka  thing  wi'  the  verra  tips  o'  her  fingers, 
and  syne  ken  a'thiug  aboot  it,  as  gin  she  had  a  universal  in- 
sicht ;  or  raither,  I  wad  say,  her  natur,  notwithstandin'  its 
variety,  was  sae  homogeneous,  that  whan  ae  nerve  o'  her  spirit- 
ual being  cam  in  contack  wi'  onything,  the  haill  sowl  o'  her 
cam  in  contack  wi'  't  at  the  same  time  and  thereby  ;  and  ilka 
pairt  read  the  report  efter  its  ain  fashion,  translatin'  't  accordin' 
to  'ts  ain  experience :  as  the  different  provinces  and  languages 
o'  the  Chinese  Empire  read  the  universal  written  tongue.  A 
heap  o'  pains  I  took  that  I  micht  never  hae  to  say  I  dinna  Teen 
to  sic  a  gleg-ee'd  cratur  as  that.  And  ilka  day  she  cam  to  read 
wi'  me,  and  we  jist  got  on  like  a  mail-coach — at  least  I  did — 
only  the  wrang  road.  An'  she  cam  aye  i'  the  efternoon  and 
bade  till  the  gloamin'  cam  doon  an'  it  grew  ower  mirk  to  ken 
the  words  frae  ane  anither.  And  syne  she  wad  gang  and  dress 
hersel'  for  denser,  as  she  said. 

"  Te  may  say  I  was  a  muckle  gowk.  And  ye  may  lauch  at 
a  bairn  for  greitin'  efter  the  mune  ;  but  I  doot  that  same 
avarice  o'  the  wee  man  comes  frae  a  something  in  him  that  he 
wad  be  ill  aff  wi'oot.  Better  greit  for  the  mune  than  no  be 
cawpable  o'  greetin'  for  the  mune.  And  weel  I  wat,  I  grat  for 
the  mune,  or  a'  was  dune,  and  didna  get  it,  ony  mair  than  the 
lave  o'  my  greedy  wee  brithers." 

The  night  had  gathered  thick  about  them.  And  for  a  few 
moments  out  of  the  darkness  came  no  sound.  At  length  ]\Ir 
Cupples  resumed: 

"  I  maun  jist  confess,  cauf  that  I  was — and  yet  I  wad  hae 
been  a  greater  cauf  gin  it  hadna  been  sae — I  cud  liae  lickit  the 
verra  dist  afi"  o'  the  flure  whaur  her  fit  had  been.  Man,  I  never 
saw  onything  like  her.  The  hypostasis  o'  her  was  jist  per- 
fection itsel'.  Weel,  ae  nicht — for  I  wrocht  full  late,  my  een 
war  suddenly  dazed  wi'  the  glimmer  o'  something  white.  I 
thocht  the  first  minute  that  I  had  seen  a  ghost,  and  the  neist 
that  I  was  a  ghost  mysel'.  For  there  she  was  in  a  flufty  cloud 
o'  whiteness,  wi'  her  bonny  bare  shouthers  and  airms,  and  jist 
ae  white  rose  in  her  black  hair,  and  deil  a  diamond  or  ruby 
aboot  her ! 

" '  It's  so  hot,'  said  she,  '  in  the  drawing-room !  And  they're 
talking  such  nonsense  there  !  There's  nobody  speaks  sense  to 
me  but  you,  Mr  Cupples.' 

" '  'l)eed,  mem,'  says  I,  '  I  dinna  ken  whaur  it's  to  come 
frae  the  nicht.  For  I  hae  nae  sense  left  but  ane,  and  that's 
nearhan'  '  wi'  excess  o'  brightness  blind.'  Auld  Spenser  says 
something  like  that,  doesna  he,  mem  ? '  I  added,  seein'  that 
she  luikit  some  grave.     But  what  she  micht  hae  said  or  dune, 


ALEC   FOKBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  329 

I  dinna  keu ;  for  I  sweir  to  ye,  bantam,  I  know  nothing  that 
happent  efter,  till  I  cam'  to  mysel'  at  the  soun'  o'  a  lauch  frae 
outside  the  door.  I  kenned  it  weel  eneuch,  though  it  was  a 
licht  flutterin'  lauch.  Maybe  I  heard  it  the  better  frae  the 
conductin'  pooer  o'  timmer,  for  my  broo  was  doon  o'  the 
buirds  o'  the  flure.  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  but  the  place  reeled 
roon',  and  I  fell.  It  was  the  lauch  that  killed  me.  What  for 
sud  she  lauch  ? — And  sic  a  ane  as  her  that  was  no  licht-heidit 
lassie,  but  cud  read  and  unnerstan',  wi  the  best  ?  I  suppose  I 
had  gane  upo'  my  knees  till  her,  and  syne  like  the  lave  o'  the 
celestials  she  tuik  to  her  feathers  and  flew.  But  I  ken  nae 
mair  than  this :  that  for  endless  ages  I  gaed  foUowiu'  her 
through  the  heavenly  halls,  aye  kennin  as  sure's  gospel  that  she 
was  ahint  the  neist  door,  and  aye  openin'  that  door  upon  an 
empty  glory,  to  be  equally  certain  that  she  was  ahint  the  neist. 
And  sae  on  I  gaed  till,  ahint  ane  o'  the  thoosan'  doors,  I  saw 
the  reek-enamelled  couples  o'  my  auld  mither's  bit  hoosie  upo' 
the  mairgin  o'  the  bog,  and  she  was  hingin'  ower  me,  sayin'  her 
prayers  as  gin  she  wad  gang  efter  them  like  a  balloon  wi'  verra 
fervour.  And  whan  she  saw  my  een  open,  she  drappit  upo' 
her  knees  and  gaed  on  prayin'.  And  I  wouner  that  thae  prayers 
warna  hearkent  till.     I  never  cud  unnerstan'  that." 

"  Hoo  ken  ye  that  they  warna  hearkent  till  ?  "  asked  Alec. 
"  Luik  at  me !  Do  ye  ca'  that  hearkenin'  till  a  prayer  ? 
Luik  what  she  got  me  back  for.  Ca'  ye  that  an  atiswer  to 
prayers  like  my  auld  raither's  ?  Faith !  I'll  be  forced  to 
repent  some  day  for  her  sake,  though  there  sudna  be  anither 
woman  atween  Venus  and  Mars  but  wad  rive  wi'  lauchin  at  a 
word  frae  Cosmo  Cupples.  But,  man!  I  wad  hae  repentit 
lang  syne  gin  I  cud  hae  gotten  ae  glimp  o'  a  possible  justice  in 
pittin  a  hert  as  grit's  mine  into  sic  a  misgreein',  scrimpit,  con- 
temptible body  as  this.  The  verra  sowl  o'  me  has  to  draw  up 
the  legs  o'  't  to  baud  them  inside  this  coffin  o'  a  corpus,  and 
baud  them  ohn  shot  oot  into  the  everlastin'  cauld.  Man,  the 
first  thing  I  did,  whan  I  cam'  to  mysel',  was  to  justify  her 
afore  God  for  lauchin  at  me.  Hoo  could  onybody  help 
lauchin  at  me  ?  It  wasna  her  wyte.  And  eh  !  man,  ye  dinna 
ken  hoo  quaiet  and  comfortable  I  was  in  my  ain  min',  as  sune's 
I  had  gotten  her  justified  to  mysel'  and  had  laid  it  doon  that  I 
was  ane  fit  to  be  lauchen  at. — I  winna  lat  you  lauch  at  me, 
though,  bantam.     I  tell  ye  that." 

"  Mr  Cupples !     Laugh  at  you !     I  would  rather  be  a  door- 
mat to  the  devil,"  exclaimed  Alec. 

"Thank  you,  bantam. — Weel,  ye  see,  ance  I  had  made  up 
my  miu'  aboot  that,  I  jist  begun  followin'  at  her  again  like  a 


330  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

hungry  tyke  that  stops  the  minute  ye  luik  roon  efter  him — I 
mean  i'  my  thochts,  ye  ken — jist  as  I  had  been  followin'  her,  a' 
the  time  o'  my  fiver,  throu  the  halls  o'  heaven,  as  I  thoucht 
tliem,  whan  they  war  only  the  sma'  crinkle-crankle  convolu- 
tions o'  ray  cerebral  dome — a  puir  heaven  for  a  man  to  bide 
in  !  I  hae  learnt  that  waur  and  better  than  maist  men,  as  I'm 
gaein  to  tell  ye ;  for  it  was  for  the  sake  o'  that  that  I  begud 
this  dismal  story. — AVhan  I  grew  some  better,  and  wan  up — 
wad  ye  believe  't  ? — the  kin'ness  o'  the  auld,  warpit,  broon, 
wrinklet  woman  that  brocht  me  furth,  me  Cosmo  Cupples,  wi' 
the  muekle  hert  and  the  sma'  body,  began  to  console  me  a  wee 
for  the  lauch  o'  that  queen  o'  white-skinned  leddies.  It  was 
but  a  wee,  ye  ken  ;  still  it  was  consolation.  My  mither  thocht 
a  heap  o'  me.  Fowk  thinks  mair  o'  fowk,  the  mair  they  are 
themsels.  But  I  wat  it  was  sma'  honour  I  brocht  her  hame, 
wi'  my  een  brunt  oot  wi'  greetin'  for  the  mune. — I'll  tell  ye 
the  lave  o'  't  efter  we  win  hame.  I  canna  bide  to  be  here  i' 
the  dark.  It's  the  quaiet  beuks  a'  roon'  me  that  I  canna  bide. 
It  was  i'  the  raids  o'  beuks,  i'  the  dark,  that  I  heard  that 
lauch.  It  jist  blastit  me  and  the  beuks  and  a'  thing.  They 
aye  luik  as  gin  they  war  bearin'  't.  Por  the  first  time  I  loot 
the  gloamin  come  doon  upo'  me  i'  this  same  leebrary,  a'  at  ance 
I  heard  the  sma'  nicher  o'  a  woman's  lauch  frae  somewhaur  in 
or  oot  o'  the  warl'.  I  grew  as  het's  hell,  and  was  oot  at  the 
door  in  a  cat-loup.  And  as  sure's  death  I'll  hear't  again,  gin  I 
bide  ae  minute  langer.     Come  oot  wi'  ye." 

There  was  light  in  Mr  Eraser's  drawing-room,  and  a  shadow 
flitted  across  the  blind.  The  frosty  night,  and  the  keenness  of 
the  stars,  made  Mr  Cupples  shiver.  Alec  was  in  a  feverous 
glow.  "When  they  reached  home,  Mr  Cupples  went  straight  to 
the  cupboard,  swallowed  a  glass  of  the  meriitn,  put  coals  on  the 
fire,  drew  his  chair  close  to  it,  and  said  : 

"  It's  dooms  cauld  !  Sit  doon  there,  bantam.  Pit  on  the 
kettle  first.  It's  an  ac'  o'  the  purest  disinteresstitness,  for  deil 
a  drap  sail  ye  drink  !  But  I'll  sing  ye  a  sang,  by  way  o' 
upmak'." 

"  I  never  heard  ye  sing,  Mr  Cupples.  Te  can  do  a'  thing, 
I  think." 

"  I  cudna  gar  a  bonnie,  high-born,  white-handit  leddy  fii'  in 
love  wi'  a  puir  futteret  (weasel)  o'  a  crater — a  shargar  (scrag) 
like  Cosmo  Cupples,  bantam.  But  I  can  do  twa  or  three 
things ;  an'  ane  o'  them  is,  I  can  mak'  a  sang ;  and  anither  is, 
I  can  mak'  a  tune  till't ;  and  a  third  is,  I  can  sing  the  tane  to 
the  tither,  that  is  whan  I  haena  had  either  ower  muekle  or  ower 
little  o'  the  tappit  hen      Noo,  heark  ye.     This  aue's  a'  my  aiu. 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEX.  331 


GAEIN'  AND  COMIN'. 

"Whan  Andrew  frae  Strathbogie  gaed, 

The  lift  was  lowerin'  dreary  ; 
The  sun  he  wadna  lift  his  heid ; 

The  will'  blew  laich  and  eerie. 
In's  pouch  he  had  a  plack  or  twa, 

I  vow  he  hadna  mony ; 
Yet  Andrew  like  a  Untie  sang, 

For  Lizzie  was  sae  bonny  ! 

0  Lizzie,  Lizzie,  bonnie  lassie  ! 
Bonnie,  saucy  bizzie  ! 
"What  richt  had  ye  to  luik  at  me, 
And  drive  me  daft  and  dizzy  ? 

"Whan  Andrew  to  Strathbogie  cam', 

The  sun  was  shiuin'  rarely ; 
He  rade  a  horse  that  prauced  and  sprang — 

I  vow  he  sat  him  fairly. 
And  he  had  gowd  to  spend  and  spare. 

And  a  heart  as  true  as  ony ; 
But's  luik  was  doon,  and  his  sigh  was  sair, 

For  Lizzie  was  sae  bonny  ! 

0  Lizzie,  Lizzie,  bonny  hizzie  ! 

Ye've  turned  the  daylicht  dreary. 

Ye're  straucht  and  rare,  ye're  fause  and  fair— 

Hech  !  auld  John  Armstrong's  dearie  !" 

His  voice  was  mellow,  and  ought  to  have  been  even.     His 
1^  expression  was  perfect. 

The  kettle  was  boiling.  Mr  Cupples  made  his  toddy,  and 
resumed  his  story. 

"  As  sune's  I  was  able,  I  left  my  mither  greitin' — God  bless 
her ! — and  cam  to  this  toon,  for  I  wasna  gaein'  to  be  eaten  up 
with  idleset  as  weel's  wi'  idolatry.  The  first  thing  I  tuik  till 
was  teachin'.  Noo  that's  a  braw  thing,  whan  the  laddies  and 
lassies  want  to  learn,  and  hae  questons  o'  their  ain  to  speir. 
But  whan  they  dinna  care,  it's  the  verra  deevil.  Or  lang,  a'thing 
grew  grey.  I  cared  for  naething  and  naebody.  My  verra 
dreams  gaed  frae  me,  or  cam  only  to  torment  me,  wi'  the  reid 
hert  o'  them  changed  to  yallow  and  grey. 

"  Weel,  ae  nicht  I  had  come  hame  worn  oot  wi'  warstlin'  to 
gar  bairns  eat  that  had  no  hunger.  I  spied  upo'  the  table  a 
bottle  o'  whusky.  A  frien'  o'  mine — a  grocer  he  was — had 
sent  it  across  the  street  to  me,  for  it  was  hard  upo'  Hogmanay. 
1  rang  the  bell  incontinent.     Up  comes  the  lass,  and  says  I, 


332  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX. 

'  Bell,  lat's  hae  a  kettlefu'  o'  het  water.'     And  to  mak'  a  lang 
story  short,  I  could  never  want   het  water  sin  syne.     For  I 
hadna  drunken  aboon  a  twa  glaiss,  atbre  the  past  began  to  re- 
vive as  gin  ye  had  come  ower't  wi'  a  weet  sponge.      A'  the 
colours  cam'  oot  upo'  't  again,  as  gin  they  had  never  turned 
wan  and  grey ;  and  I  said  to  mysel'  wi'  pride  :  '  My  leddy  can- 
na,  wi'  a'  her  breedin'  and  her  bonnie  skin,  baud  Cosmo  Cup- 
pies  frae  lo'ein'  her.'     And  I  followed  aboot  at  her  again  throu 
a'  the  oots  and  ins  o'  the  story,  and  the  past  was  restored  to 
me. — That's    boo  it  appeared  to  me  that  nicht. — Was't    ony 
wonner  that  the  ilrst  thing  I  did  whan  I  cam'  hame  the  neist 
nicht  was  to  ring  for  the  het  water  ?     I  wantit  naething  frae 
Providence  or  ]N"atur'  but  jist  that  the  colour  michtna  be  a' 
ta'en  oot  o'  my  life.     The  muckle  deevil  was  in't,  that  I  cud- 
na  stan'  up  to  my  fate  like  a  man,  and,  gin  my  life  was  to  cast 
the  colour,  jist  tak  my  auld  cloak  aboot  me,  and  gang  on  con- 
tent.     But  I  cudna.     I   bude  to  see  things   bonnie,  or  my 
strength  gaed  frae  me.     But  ye  canna  slink  in  at  back  doors 
that  gait.     I  was  pitten  oot,  and   oot  I  maun  bide.     It  wasna 
that  lang  afore  I  began  to  discover  that  it  was  a'  a  delusion 
and  a  snare.     AVhan  I  fell  asleep,  I  wad  dream  whiles  that, 
openin'  the  door  into  ane  o'  thae  halls  o'  licht,  there  she  was 
stan'in'  lauchin'  at  me.     And  she  micht  hae  gane  on  lauchin'  to 
a'  eternity — for  onything  I  cared.  And — ten  times  waur — I  wad 
whiles  come  upon  her  greitin'  and  repentin',  and  haudin'  oot 
her  ban'  to  me,  and  me  carin'  no  more  for  her  than  for  the 
beard  o'  a  barley-stalk.     And  for  makin'  a  sang — I  jist  steikit 
my  lugs  (stopped  my  ears)  whan   I    heard   a  puir  misguidit 
canary  singin'  i'  the  sunshine.     And  I  begud  to  hear  a  laich 
lauch  far  awa',  and  it  cam'  nearer  and  nearer  ilka  week,  till  it 
was  ringin'  i'  my  verra  lug.     But  a'  that  was  naething  com- 
pairateevely.     I'  the  mids  o'  a  quaiet  contemplation,  suddenly, 
wi'  an  awfu'   stoon,  a  ghaistly  doobt  pat  it's  lieid  up  i'  my 
breist,  and  cried:  'It's  a' fause.     The  grey  luik  o'  life's  the 
true  ane,  and  the  only  aspec'  ye  hae  a  richt  to  see.'     And  efter 
that,  a'  the  whusky  in  Glenlivat  cudna  console  me. — Luik  at 
me  noo.    Te  see  what  I  am.    I  can  whiles  sing  an  auld  sang — 
but  mak'  a  new  ane ! — Lord,  man !    I  can  hardly  believe  'at 
ever  I  made  a  sang  i'  my  life.     Luik  at  my  ban'  hoo  it  trimles. 
Luik  at  my  hert.     It's  brunt  oot.     There's  no  a  leevin'  crater 
but  yersel'  that  I  hae  ony  regaird  for,  sin  my  auld  mithcr  deid. 
Gin  it  warna  for  buiks,  I  wad  amaist  cut  my  throat.     And  the 
senawtus  disna  think  me  bye  and  aboon  half  a  proper  com- 
panion for  buiks  even ;   as  gin  Cupples  micht  corrup'  Milton 
himsel,  althou";h  he  was  ten  feet  ower  his  held  bottled  in  a 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  333 

bulk.  Aud  whan  I  saw  ye  poor  oot  the  whusky  in  that  inad- 
like  mainuer,  as  gin  't  had  been  some  sma'  tipple  o'  penny  ale, 
it  jist  drave  me  mad  wi'  anger." 

"Weel,  Mr  Cupples,"  Alec  ventured  to  say,  "what  for 
dinna  ye  sen'  the  bottle  to  the  deevil  ?" 

"What,  my  ain  auld  tappit  hen!"  exclaimed  Mr  Cupples, 
with  a  sudden  reaction  from  the  seriousness  of  his  late  mood ; 
'  jS^a,  na,  she  shanna  gang  to  the  deil  till  we  gang  thegither. 
Eh !  but  we'll  baith  hae  dry  insides  or  we  win  frae  him  again, 
I  doobt.  That  drouth's  an  awfu'  thing  to  contemplate.  But 
speyk  o'  giein'  ower  the  drink !  The  verra  attemp' — an'  dinna 
ye  think  that  I  haena  made  it — aich!  What  for  sud  I  gang  to 
hell  afore  my  time  ?  The  deils  themselves  compleen  o'  that. 
Na,  na.  Ance  ye  hae  learned  to  drink,  ye  camia  do  wantin'  't. 
Man,  dinna  touch  't.  For  God's  sake,  for  yer  mither's  sake, 
for  ony  sake,  dinna  lat  a  drap  o'  the  bell-broth  gang  ower  yer 
thrapple — or  ye're  damned  like  me  for  ever  and  ever.  It's 
as  guid's  signin'  awa'  yer  sowl  wi'  yer  ain  ban'  and  yer  ain 
blude." 

Mr  Cupples  lifted  his  glass,  emptied  it,  and,  setting  it 
down  on  the  table  with  a  gesture  of  batred,  proceeded  to  fill  it 
yet  again. 


CHAPTER  LXXI. 


"  I  SAT,  Eorbes,  you  keep  yourself  all  to  yourself  and  old 
Cupples,  away  there  in  the  new  town.  Come  and  take  some 
supper  with  me  to-night.     It's  my  birthday,  old  boy." 

"  I  don't  do  much  in  that  way,  you  know,  Gibby." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  know.  You're  never  jolly  but  amongst  the 
shell-fish.  At  least  that's  what  the  Venall  thinks  of  you. 
But  for  once  in  a  way  you  might  come." 

"Well,  I  don't  mind,"  said  Alec,  really  not  caring  what 
came  to  him  or  of  him,  and  glad  of  anything  to  occupy  him 
with  no-thinking.     "  When  shall  I  come  ?" 

"  At  seven.  We'll  have  a  night  of  it.  To-morrow's 
Saturday." 

It  was  hardly  worth  while  to  go  home.  He  would  not  dine 
to-day.  He  would  go  and  renew  bis  grief  by  the  ever-grieving 
sea.  For  bis  was  a  young  love,  aud  his  sorrow  was  interesting 
to  him :  he  embalmed  bis  pangs  in  the  amber  of  his  conscious- 


334  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

ness.  So  he  crossed  tlie  links  to  the  desolate  sandy  shore  ; 
there  let  the  sound  of  the  waves  enter  the  portals  of  his 
brain  and  fill  ail  its  hollow  caves  with  their  moaning  ;  and  then 
wandering  back  to  the  old  city,  stood  at  length  over  the  key- 
stone of  the  bridge,  and  looked  down  into  the  dark  water  be- 
low the  Grothic  arch. 

He  heard  a  footstep  behind  him  on  the  bridge.  Looking 
round  he  saw  Beauchamp.  "Without  reason  or  object,  he 
walked  up  to  him  and  barred  his  way.  Beauchamp  started, 
and  drew  back. 

"  Beauchamp,"  said  Alec,  "you  are  my  devil." 

"  Granted,"  said  Beauchamp,  coolly,  but  on  his  guard. 

"  What  are  vou  about  with  my  cousin  ?" 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ?  " 

"She  is  my  cousin." 

"  I  don't  care.     She's  not  mine." 

"  If  you  play  her  false,  as  you  have  played  me — by  hea- 
vens ! — " 

"  Oh !  I  '11  be  very  kind  to  her.  Tou  needn't  be  afraid. 
I  only  wanted  to  take  down  your  damned  impudence.  Tou 
may  go  to  her  when  you  like." 

Alec's  answer  was  a  blow,  which  Beauchamp  was  prepared 
for  and  avoided.  Alec  pursued  the  attack  with  a  burning  de- 
sire to  give  him  the  punishment  he  deserved.  But  he  turned 
suddenly  sick,  and,  although  he  afterwards  recalled  a  wrestle, 
knee  to  knee,  the  first  thing  he  was  aware  of  was  the  cold 
waters  of  the  river  closing  over  him.  The  shock  restored  him. 
When  he  rose  to  the  surface  he  swam  down  the  stream,  for  the 
banks  were  precipitous  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  bridge.  At 
length  he  succeeded  in  landing,  and  set  out  for  home.  He  had 
not  gone  far,  however,  before  he  grew  very  fiiint,  and  had  to 
sit  down  on  a  door-step.  Then  he  discovered  that  his  arm  was 
bleeding,  and  knew  that  Beauchamp  had  stabbed  him.  He 
contrived  to  tie  it  up  after  a  fashion,  and  reached  home  with- 
out much  more  difficulty.  Mr  Cupples  had  not  come  in.  So 
he  got  his  landlady  to  tie  up  his  arm  for  him,  and  then  changed 
his  clothes.  Fortunately  the  wound,  although  long  and  deep, 
ran  lengthways  between  the  shoulder  and  elbow,  on  the  out- 
side of  the  arm,  and  so  was  not  of  a  serious  character.  After 
he  was  dressed,  feeling  quite  well,  he  set  off  to  keep  his  engage- 
ment with  Gilbert  Gordon. 

Now  how"  could  such  a  thing  have  taken  place  in  the  third 
decade  of  the  nineteenth  century? — The  parapet  was  low  and 
the  struggle  was  fierce.  I  do  not  think  that  Beauchamp  in- 
tended murder,  for  the  consequences  of  murder  must  be  a 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HO'VVGLEX.  335 

serious  consideration  to  every  gentleman.  He  came  of  a  wild 
race,  with  whom  a  word  and  a  steel  blow  had  been  linked 
for  ages.  And  habits  transmitted  become  instincts.  He  was 
of  a  cold  temperament,  and  such  a  nature,  once  roused,  is  often 
less  under  control  than  one  used  to  excitement :  a  saint  will 
sometimes  break  through  the  bonds  of  the  very  virtue  which 
has  gained  him  all  his  repute.  If  we  combine  these  considera- 
tions with  the  known  hatred  of  Beauchamp,  the  story  Alec 
told  Cupples  the  next  day  may  become  ni  itself  credible. 
"Whether  Beauchamp  tried  to  throw  him  from  the  bridge  may 
remain  doubtful,  for  when  the  bodies  of  two  men  are  locked  in 
the  wrestle  of  hate,  their  own  souls  do  not  know  what  tliey  in- 
tend. Beauchamp  must  have  sped  home  with  the  conscience 
of  a  murderer ;  and  yet  when  Alec  made  his  appearance  in  the 
class,  most  probably  a  revival  of  hatred  was  his  first  mental  ex- 
perience. But  I  have  had  no  opportunity  of  studying  the  mor- 
bid anatomy  of  Beauchamp,  and  I  do  not  care  about  him,  save 
as  he  influences  the  current  of  this  history.  When  he  vanishes, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  forget  him. 

Soon  after  Alec  had  left  the  house,  Cupples  came  home 
with  a  hurried  inquiry  whether  the  landlady  had  seen  anything 
of  him.  She  told  him  as  much  as  she  knew,  whereupon  he 
went  up-stairs  to  his  ^schylus,  &c. 

Alec  said  nothing  about  his  adventure  to  any  of  his  friends, 
for,  like  other  Scotchmen  young  and  old,  he  liked  to  keep 
things  in  his  own  hands  till  he  knew  what  to  do  with  them. 
At  first,  notwithstanding  his  loss  of  blood,  he  felt  better  than 
he  had  felt  for  some  time ;  but  in  the  course  of  the  evening  he 
grew  so  tired,  and  his  brain  grew  so  muddy  and  brown,  that 
he  was  glad  when  he  heard  the  order  given  for  the  boiling 
water.  He  had  before  now,  although  ]Mr  Cupples  had  never 
become  aware  of  the  fact,  partaken  of  the  usual  source  of 
Scotch  exhilaration,  and  had  felt  nothing  the  worse ;  and  now 
heedless  of  Mr  Cupples's  elaborate  warning — how  could  he  be 
expected  to  mind  it  ? — he  mixed  himself  a  tumbler  eagerly. 
But  although  the  earth  brightened  up  under  its  influences,  and 
a  Avider  horizon  opened  about  him  than  he  had  enjoyed  for 
months  before,  yet  half-frightened  at  the  power  of  the  beverage 
over  his  weakened  frame,  he  had  conscience  enough  to  refuse  a 
second  tumbler,  and  rose  early  and  went  home. 

The  moment  he  entered  the  garret,  Mr  Cupples,  who  had 
already  consumed  his  nightly  portion,  saw  that  he  had  been 
drinking.  He  looked  at  him  with  blue  eyes,  wide-opened, 
dismay  and  toddy  combining  to  render  them  of  uncertain 
vision. 


336  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

"  Eh,  bantam  !  bantam  ! "  he  said,  and  sank  back  in  his 
chair ;  "  ye  hae  been  at  it  in  spite  o'  me." 

And  Mr  Cupples  burst  into  silent  tears — no  unusual 
phenomenon  in  men  under  the  combined  influences  of  emotion 
and  drink.  Notwithstanding  his  own  elevated  condition,  Alec 
was  shocked. 

"  Mr  Cupples,"  he  said,  "  I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 

Mr  Cupples  took  no  notice.  Alec  began  his  story  notwitli- 
standiug,  and  as  he  went  on,  his  friend  became  attentive,  in- 
serting here  and  there  an  expletive  to  the  disadvantage  of 
Beauchamp,  whose  behaviour  with  regard  to  Kate  he  now 
learned  for  the  first  time.  When  Alec  had  finished,  Cupples 
said  solemnly : 

"  I  warned  ye  against  him,  Alec.  But  a  waur  enemy  nor 
Beauchamp  has  gotten  a  sickerer  baud  o'  ye,  I  doobt.  JDo  'at 
he  like,  Beauchamp's  dirk  couldna  hurt  ye  sae  muckle  as  yer 
ain  ban',  whan  ye  liftit  the  first  glass  to  yer  ain  mou'  the 
nicht.  Te  hae  despised  a'  my  warnings.  And  sorrow  and 
shame'll  come  o'  't.  And  I'll  hae  to  heir  a'  the  wyte  o'  't. 
Yer  mither'll  jist  hate  me  like  the  verra  black  taed  that  no 
woman  can  bide.  Gang  awa'  to  yer  bed.  I  canna  bide  the 
sicht  o'  ye." 

Alec  went  to  bed,  rebuked  and  distressed.  But  not  having 
taken  enough  to  hurt  him  much,  he  was  unfortunately  able, 
the  next  morning,  to  regard  Mr  Cupples's  lecture  from  a 
ludicrous  point  of  view.  And  what  danger  was  he  in  more 
than  the  rest  of  the  fellows,  few  of  whom  would  refuse  a 
tumbler  of  toddy,  and  fewer  of  whom  were  likely  to  get  drunk  ? 
— Had  not  Alec  been  unhappy,  he  would  have  been  in  less 
danger  than  most  of  them  ;  but  he  was  unhappy. 

And  although  the  whisky  had  done  him  no  great  immediate 
injury,  yet  its  reaction,  combined  with  the  loss  of  blood,  made 
him  restless  all  that  day.  So  that,  when  the  afternoon  came, 
instead  of  going  to  Mr  Cupples  in  the  library,  he  joined  some 
of  the  same  set  he  had  been  with  the  evening  before.  And 
when  he  came  home,  instead  of  going  up-stairs  to  Mr  Cupples, 
he  went  straight  to  bed. 

The  next  morning,  while  he  was  at  breakfast,  Mr  Cupples 
made  his  appearance  in  his  room. 

"  What  cam'  o'  ye  last  nicht,  bantam  ?  "  he  asked  kindly, 
but  with  evident  uneasiness. 

"  I  cam'  hame  some  tired,  and  gaed  straucht  to  my  bed." 

"  But  ye  warna  liame  verra  ear'." 

"I  wasna  that  late." 

"  Ye  hae  been  drinkin'  again.    I  ken  by  the  luik  o'  yer  eeu." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF     HOWGLEN.  337 

Alec  had  a  very  even  temper.  But  a  headache  and  a  sore 
conscience  together  were  enough  to  upset  it.  To  be  out  of 
temper  with  oneself  is  to  be  out  of  temper  with  the  universe. 

"  Did  my  mother  commission  you  to  look  after  me,  Mr 
Cupples  ?  "  he  asked,  and  could  have  dashed  his  head  against 
the  wall  the  next  moment.  But  the  look  of  pitying  and  yet 
deprecating  concern  in  Mr  Cupples's  face  fixed  him  so  that  he 
could  say  nothing. 

-Mr  Cupples  turned  and  walked  slowly  away,  with  only  the 
words  : 

"  Eh  !  bantam  !  bantam  !  The  Lord  hae  pity  upo'  ye — and 
me  too ! " 

He  went  out  at  the  door  bowed  like  an  old  man. 

"  Preserve's,  Mr  Cupples  !  "What  ails  ye  ?  "  exclaimed 
his  landlady  meeting  him  in  the  passage. 

"  The  whusky's  disagreed  wi'  me,"  he  said.  "It's  verra  ill- 
faured  o'  't.     I'm  sure  I  pay't  ilka  proper  attention." 

Then  be  went  down  the  stairs,  murmuring — 

"  Eainbows  !  Eainbows  !  Xaething  for  me  but  rainbows ! 
God  help  the  laddie  !  " 


CHAPTER  LXXIL 


It  may  appear  strange  to  some  of  my  readers  that  Alec 
should  fall"  into  this  pit  immediately  upon  tlie  solemn  warning 
of  his  friend.  He  had  listened  to  the  story  alone;  he  had 
never  felt  the  warning :  he  had  never  felt  the  danger.  Had 
he  not  himself  in  his  own  hands  ?  He  was  not  fond  of  whisky. 
He  could  take  it  or  leave  it.  And  so  he  took  it ;  and  finding 
that  there  was  some  comfort  in  it,  took  it  again  and  again, 
seeking  the  society  in  which  it  was  the  vivifying  element. — 
Jfeed  I  depict  the  fine  gradations  by  which  he  sank — grada- 
tions though  fine  yet  so  numerous  that,  in  a  space  of  time 
almost  too  brief  for  credit,  the  bleared  eye,  the  soiled  garments, 
and  the  disordered  hair,  would  reveal  how  the  night  had  been 
spent,  and  the  clear-browed  boy  looked  a  sullen,  troubled,  dis- 
satisfied youth  ?  The  vice  had  laid  hold  of  him  like  a  fast- 
wreathing,  many-folded  serpent.  He  had  never  had  any  con- 
scious religion.  His  life  had  never  looked  up  to  its  som-ce. 
All  that  was  good  in  him  was  good  of  itself,  not  of  him.  So  it 
was  easy  to  go  down,  with  grief  staring  at  him  over  the  edge 

22 


338  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

of  the  pit.  All  return  to  the  unific  rectitude  of  a  manly  life 
must  be  in  the  face  of  a  scorching  past  and  a  dank  future — 
and  those  he  could  not  face. 

And  as  his  life  thus  ebbed  away  from  hira,  his  feelings  to- 
wards Beauchamp  grew  more  and  more  bitter,  approximating 
in  character  to  those  of  Beauchamp  towards  him.  And  he 
soon  became  resolved  to  have  his  revenge  on  him,  though  it 
was  long  before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  as  to  what  the 
revenge  should  be. 

Beauchamp  avoided  him  constantly. 

And  Mr  Cupples  was  haunting  him  unseen.  The  strong- 
minded,  wise-headed,  weak-willed  little  poet,  wrapped  in  a  coat 
of  darkness,  dogged  the  footsteps  of  a  great  handsome,  good- 
natured,  ordinary-gifted  wretch,  who  could  never  make  him  any 
return  but  aifection,  and  had  now  withdrawn  all  interchange 
of  common  friendship  in  order  that  he  might  go  the  downward 
road  unchecked.  Cupples  was  driven  almost  distracted.  He 
drank  harder  than  ever,  but  with  less  satisfaction  than  ever, 
for  he  only  grew  the  more  miserable.  He  thought  of  writing 
to  Alec's  mother,  but,  with  the  indecision  of  a  drunkard,  he 
could  not  make  up  his  mind,  and  pondered  over  every  side  of 
the  question,  till  he  was  lost  in  a  maze  of  incapacity. 

Bad  went  to  worse.     Vice  grew  upon  vice. 

There  are  facts  in  human  life  which  human  artists  cannot 
touch.  The  great  Artist  can  weave  them  into  the  grand  whole 
of  his  Picture,  but  to  the  human  eye  they  look  too  ugly  and 
too  painful.  Even  the  man  who  can  do  the  deeds  dares  not 
represent  them.  Mothers  have  to  know  such  facts  of  their 
sons,  and  such  facts  of  women  like  themselves. 

Alec  had  fallen  amongst  a  set  of  men  who  would  not  be 
satisfied  till  he  should  be  as  low  as  they — till  there  should  be 
nothing  left  in  him  to  remind  them  that  they  had  once  been 
better.  The  circle  in  which  he  began  to  drink  had  gradually 
contracted  about  him.  The  better  sort  had  fallen  away,  and 
the  worse  had  remained — chiefly  older  men  than  he,  men  who 
had  come  near  to  the  enjoyment  of  ^"ileness  for  its  own  sake, 
if  that  be  possible,  and  who  certainly  enjoyed  making  others 
like  themselves.  Encouraged  by  their  laughter  and  approba- 
tion. Alec  began  to  emulate  them,  and  would  soon  have  had 
very  little  to  learn  if  things  had  not  talcen  a  turn.  A  great 
hand  is  sometimes  laid  efven  on  the  fly-wheel  of  life's  engine. 


339 


CHAPTER  LXXIIL 

Ais'DEEW  Constable,  with  liis  wife  and  old-fashioned  child 
Isie,  was  seated  at  tea  in  the  little  parlour  opening  from  the 
shop,  when  he  was  called  out  by  a  customer.  He  remained 
longer  than  was  likely  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  transaction 
of  business  at  that  time  of  the  day.  And  when  he  returned 
his  honest  face  looked  troubled. 

"  Wha  was  that  ?  "  asked  his  wife. 

"  Ow !  it  was  naebody  but  Jeames  Johnston,  wantin'  a  bit 
o'  flannin  for's  wife's  coatie." 

"  And  what  had  he  to  say  'at  keepit  ye  till  yer  tay's  no  fit 
to  drink  ?  " 

"  Ow !  my  tay'll  do  weel  eneuch.  It's  nae  by  ordinar' 
cauld." 

'•  But  what  said  he  ?  " 

"  "Weel !  hm !  hm  ! — He  said  it  was  fine  frosty  weather." 

"  Ay,  nae  doobt !  He  kent  that  by  the  way  the  shuttle 
flew.     Was  that  a'  ?  " 

"  Na,  nae  freely.  But  cogues  hae  lugs,  and  bairns  hae 
muckle  eeu." 

For  Isie  sat  on  her  stool  staring  at  her  father  and  mother 
alternately,  and  watching  for  the  result  of  her  mother's  attempt 
at  picking  the  lock  of  her  father's  reticence.  But  the  moment 
she  heard  the  word  lugs,  she  knew  that  she  had  no  chance,  and 
her  eyes  grew  less  and  their  pupils  grew  larger.  Eearing  he 
had  hurt  her,  Andrew  said, 

"  Winna  ye  hae  a  starnie  jam,  Isie  ?     It's  grosert-jam." 

"  Na,  thank  ye,  daddie.  Maybe  it  wad  gie  me  a  sair 
wame,"  answered  the  solemn  old-faced  Scotchwoman  of  seven. 

A  child  who  refuses  jam  lest  it  should  serve  her  as  the  little 
book  did  the  Apostle  JohnT,  might  be  considered  prudent 
enough  to  be  intrusted  with  a  secret.  But  not  a  word  more 
was  said  on  the  subject,  till  Isie  was  in  bed,  and  supposed  to 
be  fast  asleep,  in  a  little  room  that  opened  off  the  parlour. 
But  she  was  not  asleep.  And  the  door  was  always  left  open, 
that  she  might  fall  asleep  in  the  presence  of  her  parents.  Their 
words  therefore  flowed  freely  into  her  ears,  although  the  mean- 
ing only,  played  on  her  mind  with  a  dull  glimmer  like  that 
which  played  on  her  wall  from  the  fire  in  the  room  where  they 
sat  talking. 

"  Ay,  woman,"  began  Andrew,  "  it'll  be  sair  news,  this,  to 
the  lady  ower  the  watter." 


340  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Te  dinna  mean  Mistress  Forbes,  Anerew  ?  " 

"  'Deed  I  mean  jist  her." 

"  Is't  her  son?  Has  he  met  wi'  ony  mischeef?  What's 
happent  till  him  ?  Is  he  droont,  or  killt  ?  The  Lord  preserve's  ! 
She'll  dee  o'  't." 

"  Na,  lass.     It's  a  hantle  waur  nor  a'  that." 

The  woodcuts  in  Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs,  of  which  three  folio 
volumes  in  black  letter  lay  in  the  room  whence  the  conversation 
flowed  to  Isie's  ears,  rose  in  all  their  hideousness  before  the 
mental  vision  of  the  child.  In  no  other  way  than  as  torture 
could  she  conceive  of  worse  than  being  killed. 

"Te  gar  me  grue,"  said  Mrs  Constable,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Ay,  woman,  ye  ken  little  o'  the  wickedness  o'  great  toons 
— hoo  they  lie  in  wait  at  ilka  corner,  wi'  their  gins  and  their 
snares  and  their  pits  that  they  howk  to  catch  tlie  unwary 
yowth,"  said  Andrew,  in  something  of  the  pride  of  superior 
knowledge. 

From  this  elevation,  however,  he  was  presently  pulled  down 
in  a  rather  ignominious  fashion  by  his  more  plain-spoken 
though,  not  a  whit  more  honest  wife. 

"  Anerew,  dinna  ye  mint  (ami)  at  speikin'  like  a  chapter  o' 
the  Proverbs  o'  Solomon,  the  son  o'  Dawvid.  Say  straucht  oot 
'at  thae  coorse  jawds  that  hing  aboot  i'  the  gloamin'  hae  gotten 
a  grip  o'  the  bonnie  lad.  Eh  !  but  he'll  fair  ill ;  and  the  Lord 
hae  mercy  upo'  him — and  nane  upo'  them  !  " 

"  Hoot !  hoot !  lass  ;  dinna  speik  wi'  sic  a  venom.  Te  ken 
wha  says  Venrjeance  is  mine?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  weel  eneuch.  And  I  houp  He'll  tak's  ain  upo'  sic 
brazen  hizzies.  Tou  men-fowk  think  ye  ken  a  hantle  o'  things 
that  ye  wad  hand  us  ohn  kent.  But  nane  kens  the  wiles  o'  a 
wumman,  least  awa  them  'at  fa's  into  tliem,  but  anither  wum- 
man." 

"  It's  nae  savin'  lore,"  said  Andrew,  a  little  troubled  that 
his  wife  should  assert  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  such  things. 
But  she  went  on. 

'•  Women's  jiat  dreidfu'.  Whan  ance  they  gang  the  ill  gait, 
they're  neither  to  baud  nor  bin'.  And  to  think  o'  them  layin' 
ban's  upo'  sic  a  bonnie  weel-behaved  laddie  as  that  Alec  Forbes, 
a  ceevil,  herty  cratur,  wi'  a  kin'  word  an'  a  joke  even  for  the 
beggar  'at  he  geid  a  bawbee  till !  Weel,  he'll  come  oot  o'  their 
cluiks,  maybe  no  that  inuckle  the  waur  efter  a',  as  niony  a  man 
frac  King  Dawvid  doonwith  afore  him." 

"  Noo',  wumman  !  "  said  Andrew,  in  a  tone  of  authority 
blended  with  rising  indignation  ;  "  ye're  slidin'  aft"  o'  yer  ain 
Btule,  and  ye'll  be  upo'  the  grun'  afore  ye  win  on  to  mine. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  341 

Riclit  or  wrang  aboot  the  women,  I  bude  to  ken  mair  aboot  the 
men  nor  ye  do ;  and  I  daiir  affirm  and  uphaud  that  never  man 
cam'  oot  o'  the  grip  o'  thae  poor  deluded  craters — " 

Mrs  Constable  interposed  with  one  single  emphatic  epithet, 
not  admittable  to  the  ears  of  this  generation  ;  but  Andrew  re- 
sumed, and  went  on. 

" — poor  deluded  craters,  withoot  losin'  a  great  pairt  o'  what 
was  left  in  him  o'  the  eemage  o'  God  efter  the  faU.  "Woman, 
he  tynes  (loses)  a  heap  ! " 

"  Hoo  sud  ye  ken  onything  aboot  that,  Anerew  ?  "  returned 
his  wife  sharply. 

"  The  same  way  than  ye  ken  sae  weel  aboot  the  she  side  o' 
the  queston,  lass.  We  may  jist  enlichten  ane  anither  a  wee 
aboot  some  things,  mayhap." 

Meantime  the  ears  of  the  little  pitcher  in  bed  had  been  grow- 
ing longer  and  longer  with  curious  horror.  The  something  iu  it- 
self awfully  vagueabout  Alec's  fate  was  wrapt  in  yet  deeper  clouds 
of  terror  and  mystery  by  the  discord  of  opinion  with  regard  to 
it  on  the  part  of  her  father  and  mother,  whom  she  had  rarely 
beard  differ.  She  pictured  to  herself  the  image  of  his  Maker 
being  scratched  off  Alec  by  the  claws  of  furies  ;  and  hot  pin- 
cers tearing  nail  after  nail  from  the  hand  which  had  once  given 
her  a  penny.  Ajid  her  astonishment  was  therefore  paralyzing 
when  she  heard  her  father  say  : 

"  But  ye  maun  baud  a  quaiet  tongue  i'  yer  heid,  guidwife ; 
for  weel  as  ye  like  the  laddie,  ye  may  blast  his  character  gin  ye 
say  a  word  aboot  it." 

"  I  s'  warran'  it's  a'  ower  Glamerton  afore  it  comes  to  your 
lugs,  Anerew,"  returned  her  mother.  "  They're  no  that  gleg 
efter  sic  news.  But  I  wad  like  sair  to  ken  wha  sent  hame  the 
word  o'  't." 

"  I'm  thinking  it's  been  young  Bruce." 

"  The  Lord  be  praised  for  alee  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs  Constable. 
"  Haeua  I  tell't  ye  afore  noo,  sae  that  it's  no  upmak  to  pick  the 
lock  o'  the  occasion,  Anerew,  that  Eob  Bruce  has  a  spite  at  that 
faimily  for  takin'  sic  a  heap  o'  notice  o'  Annie  Annerson.  And 
I  wadnawonner  gin  he  had  set's  hert  upo'  merryin'  herupo'  's 
aiu  Eob,  and  sae  keepin'  her  bit  siller  i'  the  faimily.  Gin 
that  be  sae,  he  micht  weel  gie  Alee  Forbes  a  back-handit  cloot 
(blow)." 

"  'Deed !  maybe,  gudewife.  He's  a  burnin'  and  a  shinin' 
Hcht  amo'  you  missioners,  though  ;  and  ye  maunna  say  ill  o' 
'm,  for  fear  he  has  ye  up  afore  the  kirk." 

"  Ay,  deed  is  he  !  He's  a  burnin'  shame,  and  a  stinkin'  lamp  ; 
for  the  grace  o'  God  wasna  hauden  to  the  nib  o'  'm  lang  eneuch 


342 


ALEC   FOKBES   OF    HOM'GLEX. 


to  set  him  in  a  low  {flame),  but  only  lang  eneuch  to  gar  the 
ile  o'  'm  reek  fit  to  scomfish  {suffocate)  a  haill  Sodom." 

■'  Hoot,  lass  !  Te're  ower  sair  even  upo'  him.  But  it's 
verra  true  that  gin  the  story  cam'  frae  that  en'  o'  the  toon, 
there's  room  for  rizzonable  doobts.  Sae  we'll  awa'  to  our  beds, 
and  houp  things  mayna  be  sae  far  gane  as  the  soun'  o'  them. 
Only  I  drede  there's  aye  some  water  whaur  the  stirkie  droons." 

It  was  long  before  little  Isie  got  to  sleep,  what  with  at- 
tempting to  realize  the  actual  condition  of  Alec  Forbes,  and 
trying  to  excogitate  the  best  means  for  his  deliverance.  Why 
should  not  all  Grlamerton  set  out  in  a  body  with  flails  and  pitch- 
forks ?  And  if  she  must  not  meddle  for  that,  seeing  her  father 
had  said  the  matter  must  not  be  mentioned,  yet  his  prohibition 
could  not  include  Alec's  mother,  whom  it  would  be  wicked  to 
keep  in  ignorance.  For  what  would  Isie  think  if  she  was  taken 
prisoner  by  a  cruel  woman  and  they  would  not  tell  her  mother? 
So  she  fell  asleep,  to  wake  in  the  morning  with  the  sense  of  a 
mission  upon  her  important  little  mind. 

What  rendered  it  probable  that  the  rumour  came  from 
"that  end  of  the  town  "  was,  that  Bruce  the  younger  was  this 
year  a  bejan  at  Alec's  college,  and  besides  was  the  only  other 
scion  of  Grlamerton  there  grafted,  so  that  any  news  about  Alec 
other  than  he  would  care  to  send  himself,  must  in  all  likelihood 
have  come  through  him. — For  Bruce  the  elder  had  determined 
that  in  his  son  he  would  restore  the  fallen  fortunes  of  the 
family,  giving  him  such  an  education  as  would  entitle  him  to 
hold  up  his  head  with  the  best,  and  especially  with  that  proud 
upstart.  Alec  Forbes. 

The  news  had  reached  Thomas  Crann,  and  filled  him  with 
concern.  He  had,  as  was  his  custom  in  trouble,  betaken  him- 
self straightway  to  "  the  throne  of  grace,"  and  "  wrestled  in 
prayer  "  with  Grod  that  he  would  restore  the  prodigal  to  his 
mother.  "What  would  Thomas  have  thought  if  he  had  been  told 
that  his  anxiety,  genuine  as  it  was,  that  his  love,  true  as  it 
was,  did  not  come  near  the  love  and  anxiety  of  another  man 
who  spent  his  evenings  in  drinking  whisky  and  reading  heathen 
poets,  and  who,  although  he  knew  not  a  little  of  his  Bible,  never 
opened  it  from  one  end  of  the  year  to  the  other?  If  he  had 
been  told  that  Cosmo  Cupples  had  more  than  once,  after  the 
Hist  tiiiiibU'r  of  toddy  and  before  the  second,  betaken  himself 
to  his  prayers  for  liis  poor  Alec  Forbes,  and  entreated  Grod. 
Almighty  to  do  for  him  what  he  could  not  do,  though  he  would 
die  for  him — to  rescue  liim  from  the  fearful  pit  and  the  miry 
clay  of  moral  iioUution — if  he  had  heard  this,  he  would  have 
said  that  it  was  a  sad  pity,  but  such  prayers  could  not  be 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  343 

ans^Yered,  seeing  he  that  prayed  was  himself  in  the  gall  of  bit- 
terness and  the  bond  of  iniquity. 

There  was  much  shaking  of  the  head  amongst  the  old 
women.  Many  an  ejaculation  and  many  a  meditative  eh  me  ! 
were  uttered  over  Alec's  fall ;  and  many  a  word  of  tender 
pity  for  his  poor  mother  floated  forth  on  the  frosty  air  of 
Glamerton  ;  but  no  one  ventured  to  go  and  tell  the  dreary 
tidings.  The  men  left  it  to  the  women ;  and  the  woman  knew 
too  well  how  the  bearer  of  such  ill  news  would  appear  in  her 
eyes,  to  venture  upon  the  ungracious  task.  So  they  said  to 
themselves  she  must  know  it  just  as  well  as  they  did  ;  or  if  she 
did  not  know,  poor  woman !  she  would  know  time  enough  for 
all  the  good  it  would  do  her.  And  that  came  of  sending  sons 
to  colleges  !  &c.,  &c. 

But  there  was  just  one  not  so  easily  satisfied  about  the 
extent  of  her  duties  :  that  was  little  Isie  Constable. 


CHAPTER  LXXIV. 


The  tertians  gave  a  supper  at  Luckie  Cumstie's,  and  invited 
the  magistrands.  On  such  an  occasion  Beauchamp,  with  his 
high  sense  of  his  own  social  qualities,  would  not  willingly  be 
absent.  When  the  hour  arrived,  he  took  his  place  near  the  head 
of  the  table. 

After  all  the  solid  and  a  part  of  the  liquid  entertainment 
was  over,  Alec  rose  in  the  space  between  two  toasts,  and  said  : 

"  Mr  Chairman  and  gentlemen,  I  propose,  at  my  own  proper 
cost,  to  provide  something  for  your  amusement." 

Beauchamp  and  all  stared  at  the  speaker. 

"  It  is  to  be  regretted,"  Alec  went  on,  "that  students  have 
no  court  of  honour  to  which  to  appeal.  This  is  the  first 
opportunity  I  have  had  of  throwing  myself  on  the  generosity 
of  my  equals,  and  asking  them  to  listen  to  my  story." 

The  interest  of  the  company  was  already  roused.  All  the 
heads  about  the  long  table  leaned  towards  the  speaker,  and 
cries  of  hear,  hear,  arose  in  all  directions.  Alec  then  gave  a 
brief  statement  of  the  facts  of  the  encounter  \ipon  the  bridge. 
This  was  the  only  part  of  his  relations  with  Beauchamp  which 
he  chose  to  bring  before  the  public ;  for  the  greater  wrong  of 
lying  defamation  involved  his  cousin's  name.  He  told  how 
Beauchamp  had  sought  the  encounter  by  deliberate  insult,  had 


344  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HO^VGLEN. 

used  a  weapon  against  an  unarmed  enemy,  and  then  tlirown  him 
from  the  bridge. 

"  Now,"  he  concluded,  "  all  I  ask  of  you,  gentlemen,  is  to 
allow  me  the  fair  arena  of  your  presence  while  I  give  this 
sneaking  chieftain  the  personal  chastisement  which  he  has  so 
richly  merited  at  my  hands." 

Beauchamp  had  soon  recovered  his  self-possession  after  the 
"first  surprise  of  the  attack.  He  sat  drinking  his  toddy  all  the 
time  Alec  spoke,  and  in  the  middle  of  his  speech  he  mixed 
himself  another  tumbler.  When  Alec  sat  down,  he  rose, 
glanced  round  the  assembly,  bent  his  lip  into  its  most  scornful 
curves,  and,  in  a  clear,  unwavering  voice,  said : 

"  Mr  Chairman  and  gentlemen,  I  repel  the  accusation." 
Alec  started  to  his  feet  in  wrath. 

"  Mr  Forbes,  sit  down,"  bawled  the  chairman ;  and  Alec 
obeyed,  though  with  evident  reluctance. 

"I  say  the  accusation  is  false,"  repeated  Beauchamp.  "  I 
do  not  say  that  Mr  Forbes  consciously  invented  the  calumny 
in  order  to  take  away  my  character  :  such  an  assertion  would 
preclude  its  own  credence.  Nor  do  I  venture  to  affirm  that 
he  never  was  stabbed,  or  thrown  into  the  river.  But  I  ask  any 
gentleman  who  happens  to  be  aware  of  Mr  Torbes's  devotions 
at  the  shrine  of  Father  Lyaeus,  which  is  the  more  likely — that 
a  fellow-student  should  stab  and  throw  him  into  the  water,  or 
that,  as  he  was  reeling  home  at  midnight,  the  treacherous 
divinity  of  the  bowl  should  have  handed  him  over  to  the  em- 
brace of  his  brother  deity  of  the  river.  Why  then  should  even 
his  imagination  fix  upon  me  as  the  source  of  the  injury  ? 
Gentlemen,  a  foolish  attachment  to  the  customs  of  a  long  line 
of  ancestors  has  led  me  into  what  I  find  for  the  first  time  to 
be  a  dangerous  habit — that  of  wearing  arms ; — dangerous,  I 
mean,  to  myself;  for  now  I  am  wounded  with  my  own  weapon. 
But  the  real  secret  of  the  aftair  is — I  am  ashamed  to  say — 
jealousy.  Mr  Forbes  knows  what  I  say  to  be  true — that  a 
lady  whom  lie  loves  prefers  me  to  him." 

"  Don't  bring  her  name  in,  you  brute  !  "  roared  Alec,  start- 
ing again  to  liis  feet,  "  or  I'll  tear  your  tongue  out." 

"  You  hear,  gentlemen,"  said  Beauchamp,  and  sat  down. 
A  mufmur  arose.  Heads  gathered  into  groups.  No  one 
stood  up.  Alec  felt  with  the  deepest  mortification  that  his 
adversary's  coolness  and  his  own  violence  had  turned  the  scale 
against  him.  This  conviction,  conjoined  with  the  embarrass- 
ment of  not  knowing  how  to  say  a  word  in  his  own  defence 
without  taking  some  notice  of  the  close  of  his  adversary's 
speech,  fixed  him  to  his  seat.     For  he  had  not  yet  fallen  so 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  345 

low  as  to  be  capable  of  even  alluding  to  tbe  woman  be  loved 
in  such  an  assembly.  He  would  rather  abandon  the  field  to 
his  adversary. 

Probably  not  many  seconds  had  passed,  but  his  situation 
was  becoming  intolerable,  when  a  well-known  voice  rose  clear 
above  the  confused  murmur ;  and  glancing  to  the  lower  end  of 
the  room,  he  saw  Cosmo  Cupples  standing  at  the  end  of  the 
table. 

"I  ken  weel  eneuch,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "that  I  hae  no 
richt  to  be  here.  Te  a'  ken  me  by  the  sicht  o'  the  een.  I'm 
a  graduate  o'  this  university,  and  at  present  your  humble  serv- 
ant the  librarian.  I  intrude  for  the  sake  o' justice,  and  I  cast 
mysel'  upo'  your  clemency  for  a  fair  hearin'." 

This  being  accorded  by  general  acclamation, 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  resumed,  "  I  stan'  afore  ye  wi'  a  sair 
hert.  I  hae  occupied  the  position  o'  tutor  to  Mr  Forbes ;  for, 
as  Sir  Pheelip  Sidney  says  in  a  letter  to  his  brither  Eob,  wha 
was  afterwards  Terl  o'  Leicester  upo'  the  demise  o'  Eobert 
Dudley,  '  Te  may  get  wiser  men  nor  yersel'  to  converse  wi'  ye 
and  instruck  ye,  in  ane  o'  twa  ways — by  muckle  ootlay  or 
muckle  humility.'  Noo,  that  laddie  was  ane  o'  the  finest 
naturs  I  ever  cam'  across,  and  his  humility  jist  made  it  a 
pleesur  to  tak'  chairge  o'  'm  baith  mentally  and  morally.  That 
I  had  a  sair  doon  come  whan  he  took  to  the  drink,  I  am  forced 
to  confess.  But  1  aye  thocht  he  was  strauchtforet,  notwith- 
standin'  the  whusky.  I  wasna  prepared  for  sic  a  doonfa'  as 
this. — I  maun  jist  confess,  Mr  Cheerman,  that  I  heard  him 
throu'  the  crack  o'  the  door-cheek.  And  he  broucht  sic 
deevilich  accusations — " 

"  Mr  Cupples  !  "  cried  Alec. 

"  Haud  yer  tongue.  Alec  Forbes,  and  lat  this  company  hear 
me.  Te  appealed  to  the  company  yersel'  first  o'  a'. — I  say  hoo 
cud  he  bring  sic  deevilich  accusations  against  a  gentleman  o' 
sic  birth  and  breedin'  and  accomplishments  as  the  Laird  o' 
Chattachan  ! — Maybe  the  Laird  wad  jist  condescend  to  say 
whaur  he  was  upo'  the  nicht  in  queston ;  for  gin  we  cud  get 
the  rampaugin'  misguidit  laddie  ance  fairly  into  the  yard,  wi' 
the  yetts  steekit  {gates  closed),  he  wad  see  that  leein'  wadna 
serve  his  turn." 

Alec  was  in  chaotic  confusion.  Notwithstanding  the  hard 
words  Mr  Cupples  had  used,  he  could  ill  believe  that  he  had 
turned  his  enemy.  He  had  behaved  very  badly  to  Mr  Cup- 
ples, but  was  Mr  Cupples  one  to  revenge  himself  ? 

Mr  Cupples  had  paused  with  his  eyes  resting  on  Beau- 
champ.     He,  without  rising,  replied  carelessly  : 


346  ALEC    FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

"Eeally,  sir,  I  do  not  keep  a  register  of  my  goings  and 
comings.  I  might  have  done  so  had  I  known  its  importance. 
I  have  not  even  been  informed  when  the  occurrence  is  said  to 
have  taken  place." 

"  I  can  gie  your  memory  a  prod  upo'  the  dates,  sir.  For 
I  ken  weel  the  nicht  whan  Alee  Forbes  cam'  hame  wi'  a  lang 
and  a  deep  cut  upo'  the  ootside  o'  's  left  airm  atween  the 
shouther  an'  the  elbuck.  I  may  weel  remember  't  to  my  grief ; 
for  though  he  cam'  hame  as  sober  as  he  was  drippin'  weet — 
I  hae  oor  guidwife's  testimony  to  that — he  gaed  oot  again,  and 
whan  he  cam'  hame  ance  mair,  he  was  the  waur  o'  drink  for 
the  first  time  sin'  ever  I  kent  him.  ISToo,  sir,  it  a'  took  place 
the  same  day  that  ye  cam'  to  the  leebrary,  and  tuik  awa'  wi' 
ye  a  novell  ca'd  Aiken  Drum.  I  tauld  ye  it  wad  ill  repay  ye, 
for  it  was  but  a  fule  thing.  And  I  i-emember  't  the  better 
that  I  was  expeckin'  Alec  Forbes  in  ilka  minute,  and  I  was 
feared  for  a  collieshangie  {puthredk)  atween  ye." 

"  I  remember  all  about  that  night  perfectly,  now  you  call 
it  to  my  recollection.  I  went  straight  home,  and  did  not  go 
out  again — I  was  so  taken  up  with  Aiken  Drum.''' 

"  I  tell't  ye  sae  !  "  cried  Cupples,  triumphantly.  "  "WTia 
wadna  tak'  the  word  o'  The  MacChattachan  ?  There's  sma' 
profit  in  addin'  my  testimony  to  the  weight  o'  that ;  but  I  wad 
jist  like  to  tell  this  company,  Mr  Cheerman  and  gentlemen, 
hoo  I  cam'  to  ken  mair  aboot  the  affair  nor  my  frien'  Alec 
Forbes  is  awar'  o'.  That  same  efternoon,  I  expeckit  him  i' 
the  leebrary  as  T  hae  said,  and  whan  he  didna  come,  I  took 
my  hat — that  was  about  a  half-hoor  cfter  the  laird  left  me — 
and  gaed  oot  to  luik  for  him.  I  gaed  ower  the  links  ;  for  my 
man  had  the  profitless  habit  at  that  time,  whilk  he's  gien  up 
for  a  mair  profitless  still,  o'  stravaguin'  aboot  upo'  the  sea- 
shore, wi'  's  ban's  in  's  pooches,  and  his  chin  reposin'  upo'  the 
third  button  o'  's  waistcoat — all  which  bears  hard  upo'  what 
the  laird  says  aboot's  jealousy.  The  muue  was  jist  risin'  by 
the  time  I  wan  to  the  shore,  but  I  saw  no  sign  o'  man  or 
woman  alang  that  dreary  coast.  I  was  jist  turnin'  to  come 
hame  again,  whan  I  cam'  upo'  tracks  i'  the  weet  san'.  And  I 
kent  the  prent  o'  the  fit,  and  I  followed  it  on  to  the  links  again, 
and  sae  I  gaed  back  at  my  leisure.  And  it  was  sic  a  bonny 
nicht,  though  the  mune  wasna  that  far  up,  drivin'  lang 
shaidows  afore  her,  that  I  thocht  I  wad  jist  gang  ance  ower 
the  brig  and  back  again,  and  syne  maybe  turn  into  Luckie 
Cumstic's  here.  But  afore  I  wan  to  the  brig,  Avhan  I  was  i' 
the  shaidow  o'  Baillie  Bapp's  hoose,  I  heard  sic  a  scushlin'  and 
a  shochlin'  upo'  the  brig !  and  I  saw  something  gang  reelin' 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  347 

aboot ;  and  afore  I  cud  gaitlier  my  wits  and  rin  foret,  I  lieard 
an  awfu'  splasli  i'  the  water ;  and  by  gangs  somebody  wi'  lang 
quaiet  strides,  and  never  saw  me.  He  had  on  the  kilts  and 
the  lave  o'  the  fandangles.  And  he  turned  into  the  quad- 
rangle, and  throu't  he  gaed  and  oot  at  the  corner  o'  't.  I  was 
close  ahint  him — that  is,  I  was  into  the  quadrangle  afore  he 
was  oot  o'  't.  And  I  saw  the  sacrist  come  oot  at  the  door  o' 
the  astronomical  tooer  jist  afore  the  Hielanman  turned  the 
neuk  o'  't.  And  I  said  to  Thomson,  says  I,  '  Wha  was  that 
gaed  by  ye,  and  oot  the  back  gait?'  And  says  he,  'It  was 
Maister  Beauchamp.'  '  Are  ye  sure  o'  that  ?  '  says  I.  '  As 
sure's  deith,'  says  he.    Te  ken  William's  phrase,  gentlemen." 

Beauchamp's  nonchalance  had  disappeared  for  some  time. 
When  his  own  name  came  out,  his  cheeks  grew  deathly  pale, 
and  thin  from  the  falling  of  his  jaw.  Cupples,  watching  him, 
went  on. 

"  As  sune's  I  was  sure  o'  my  man,  I  saw  what  a  damned 
idiot  I  was  to  rin  efter  him.  And  back  I  flew  to  the  brig. 
I  kent  full  weel  wha  the  ither  man  bude  to  be.  It  could  be 
nane  but  myain  Alec  Forbes;  fori  sweir  to  ye,  gentlemen, 
I  hae  watched  The  MacChattachan  watchin'  Alec  Forbes 
mair  nor  twa  or  three  times  sin'  Alec  throosh  him  for  bein' 
foul-mou'd  i'  the  face  o'  the  deid." 

By  this  time  Beauchamp,  having  swallowed  the  rest  of  hia 
tumbler  at  a  gulp,  had  recovered  a  little.  He  rose  with  defiance 
on  his  face. 

"  Dinna  lat  him  gang,  gentlemen,"  cried  Cupples,  "  till  I 
tell  ye  ae  ither  God's  trowth. — I  ran  back  to  the  brig,  as 
hard's  my  legs  cud  carry  me,  consolin'  mysel'  wi'  the  reflection 
that  gin  Alec  had  na  been  sair  hurtit  i'  the  scuffle,  there  was 
no  fear  o'  him.  For  I  heard  him  fa'  clean  into  the  water,  and 
I  kent  ye  micht  as  sune  droon  a  herrin  as  Alec  Forbes.  I  ran 
richt  to  the  mids'  o'  the  brig  and  there  was  the  black  heid  o' 
him  bobbin'  awa'  doon  the  water  i'  the  hert  o'  the  mune- 
licht.  I'm  terrible  lang-sichtit,  gentlemen.  I  canna  sweir 
that  I  saw  the  face  o'  'm,  seein'  the  back  o'  's  heid  was  to  me  ; 
but  that  it  was  Alec  Forbes,  I  hae  no  more  doobt  than  o'  my 
ain  existence.  I  was  jist  turnin',  nearhan'  the  greetin',  for  I 
lo'ed  the  laddie  weel,  whan  I  saw  something  glintin'  bonnie 
upo'  the  parapet  o'  the  brig.  And  noo  I  beg  to  restore't 
tiirts  richtful  owner.  Wad  ye  pass't  up  the  table,  gentlemen. 
Some  o'  ye  will  recogneeze't  as  ane  o'  the  laird's  bonnie 
cairngorum-buttons." 

Handing  the  button  to  the  man  nearest  him,  Mr  Cupplea 
withdrew  into  a  corner,  and  leaned  his  back  against  the  wall. 


348  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

The  button  made  many  a  zigzag  from  side  to  side  of  the  table, 
but  Beauchamp  saw  the  yellow  gleam  of  it  coming  nearer  and 
nearer.  It  seemed  to  fascinate  him.  At  last  bursting  the 
bonds  of  dismay,  the  blood  rushed  into  his  pale  face,  and  he 
again  moved  to  go  : 

"  A  conspiracy,  gentlemen ! "  he  cried.  "  Tou  are  all 
against  me.  I  will  not  trouble  you  longer  'with  my  presence. 
I  will  bide  my  time." 

"  Stop  a  mojnent,  Mr  Beauchamp,"  said  the  chairman — the 
pale-faced  son  of  a  burly  ploughman — rising.  "  Tour  de- 
parture will  scarcely  satisfy  us  now.  Gentlemen,  form  your- 
selves in  a  double  row,  and  grace  the  exit  of  a  disgrace.  I 
leave  it  to  yourselves  to  kick  him  or  not  as  you  may  think 
proper.  But  I  think  myself  the  way  is  to  be  merciful  to  the 
confounded.     Better  leave  him  to  his  own  conscience." 

Beauchamp's  hand,  following  its  foolish  habit,  fell  upon  the 
hilt  of  his  dirk. 

"  Draw  that  dirk  one  inch,"  said  the  chairman  hastily, 
clenching  his  fist,  "  and  I'll  have  you  thrown  on  Luckie  Cum- 
stie's  midden." 

Beauchamp's  hand  dropped.  The  men  formed  as  directed. 

"  Now,"  said  the  chairman  sternly. 

And  Beauchamp  without  a  word  marched  down  the  long 
avenue  white  as  a  ghost,  and  looking  at  nobody.  Each  made 
him  a  low  bow  as  he  passed,  except  the  wag  of  the  tertians, 
who  turned  his  back  on  him  and  bowed  to  the  universe  in 
general.  Mr  Cupples  was  next  the  door,  and  bowed  him  out. 
Alec  alone  stood  erect.     He  could  not  insult  him. 

Beauchamp's  feelings  I  do  not  care  to  analyze.  As  he 
passes  from  that  room,  he  passes  from  my  history. — I  do  not 
think  a  man  with  such  an  unfavourable  start,  could  arrive  at 
the  goal  of  repentance  in  this  life. 

"  Mr  Cupples,"  cried  the  chairman,  "  will  you  oblige  us  by 
spending  the  rest  of  the  evening  with  us  ?  " 

"  You  do  me  mair  honour  nor  I  deserve,  sir,"  replied  Mr 
Cupples ;  "  but  that  villain  Alec  Forbes  has  cost  me  sae 
muckle  in  drink  to  hand  my  hert  up,  that  I  winna  drink  in 
his  company.  I  micht  tak'  ower  muckle  and  disgrace  mysel' 
forbye.  Good  nieht  to  ye  a',  gentlemen,  and  my  best 
thanks." 

So  saying,  Mr  Cupples  left  the  room  before  Alec  could  get 
near  him  with  a  word  or  a  sign  of  gratitude.  But  sorry  and 
ashamed  as  he  was,  his  spirits  soon  returned.  Congratulation 
restored  him  to  his  worse  self;  and  ere  long  ho  felt  that  he 
had  deserved  well  of  the  community.     The  hostess  turned 


\LEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  349 

him  out  witli  tBe  last  few  at  midniglit,  for  one  of  tiie  pro- 
fessors was  provost ;  and  lie  went  homewards  with  another 
student,  who  also  lived  in  the  new  town. 

The  two,  however,  not  having  had  enough  of  revelry  yet, 
turned  aside  into  a  lane,  and  thence  up  a  court  leading  to  a 
low  public-house,  which  had  a  second  and  worse  reputation. 
Into  this  Alec's  companion  went.  Alec  followed.  But  he 
was  suddenly  seized  in  the  dark,  and  ejected  with  violence. 
Recovering  himself  from  his  backward  stagger  into  the  court, 
he  raised  his  arm  to  strike.  Before  him  stood  a  little  man, 
who  had  apparently  followed  him  out  of  the  public-house. 
His  hands  were  in  the  pockets  of  his  trowsers,  and  the  wind 
was  blowing  about  the  tails  of  his  old  dress-coat. 

jSTor  was  Alec  too  far  gone  to  recognize  him. 

"Tou,  Mr  Cupples!  "  he  exclaimed.  "I  didna  expect  to 
see  you  here." 

"  I  never  was  across  the  door-sill  o'  sic  a  place  afore,"  said 
Mr  Cupples,  "nor,  please  God,  will  either  you  or  me  ever 
cross  sic  a  door-sill  again." 

"  Hooly,  hooly,  Mr  Cupples !  Speak  for  an e  at  a  time.  I'm 
gaein  in  this  minute.  Luckie  Cumstie  turned  on  the  caller 
air  ower  sune  for  me." 

"  Man !  "  said  Cupples,  laying  hold  of  Alec's  coat,  "  think 
that  ye  hae  a  mither.  Ilka  word  that  ye  hear  frae  a  worth- 
less woman  is  an  affront  to  yer  mither." 

"  Dinna  stan'  preachin'  to  me.     I'm  past  that." 

"  Alec,  ye'll  wiss  to  God  ye  hadna,  whan  ye  come  to  marry 
a  bonnie  wife." 

It  was  a  true  but  ill-timed  argument.  Alec  flared  up 
wildly. 

"  Wife  !  "  he  cried,  "  there's  no  wife  for  me.  Haud  oot  o' 
my  gait.  Dinna  ye  see  I  hae  been  drinkin'  ?  And  I  winna 
be  centred." 

"  Drinkin' !  "  exclaimed  Mr  Cupples.  "  Little  ye  ken 
aboot  drinkin'.  I  hae  drunken  three  times  as  muckle  as  you. 
And  gin  that  be  ony  argument  for  me  haudin'  oot  o'  your 
gait,  it's  mair  argument  yet  for  you  to  haud  oot  o'  mine.  I 
sweir  to  God  I  winna  stan'  this  ony  langer.  Te're  to  come 
hame  wi'  me  frae  this  mou'  o'  hell  and  ugsome  {friglitfuJ) 
deith.  It  gangs  straucht  to  the  everlastin'  burnin's.  Eh, 
man  !  to  think  nae  mair  o'  women  nor  that  /  "     v-' 

And  the  brave  little  man  placed  himself  right  between 
Alec  and  the  door,  which  now  opened  half-way,  showing 
several  peering  and  laughing  faces. 

But  the  opposition  of  Mr  Cupples  had  increased  the  action 


350  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

of  tte  alcohol  upon  Alec's  brain,  and  he  blazed  up  in  a  fury 
at  the  notion  of  being  made  a  laughter  to  the  women.  He 
took  one  step  towards  Mr  Cupples,  who  had  restored  his 
hands  to  his  pockets  and  backed  a  few  paces  towards  the 
door  of  the  house,  to  guard  against  Alec's  passing  him. 

"  Haud  oot  o'  my  gait,  or  I'll  gar  ye,"  he  said  fiercely. 

"  I  will  not,"  answered  Mr  Cupples,  and  lay  senseless  on 
the  stones  of  the  court. 

Alee  strode  into  the  house,  and  the  door  closed  behind 
him. 

By  slow  degrees  Mr  Cupples  came  to  himself.  He  was 
half  dead  with  cold,  and  his  head  was  aching  frightfully.  A 
pool  of  blood  lay  on  the  stones  already  frozen.  He  crawled 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  till  he  reached  a  wall,  by  which  he 
raised  and  steadied  himself.  Feeling  along  this  wall,  he  got 
into  the  street ;  but  he  was  so  confused  and  benumbed  that 
if  a  watchman  had  not  come  up,  he  would  have  died  on  some 
doorstep.  The  man  knew  him  and  got  him  home.  He 
allowed  both  him  and  his  landlady  to  suppose  that  his  con- 
dition was  the  consequence  of  drink ;  and  so  was  helped  up 
to  his  garret  and  put  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  LXXV. 


All  the  night  during  which  Isie  Constable  lay  dreaming 
of  racks,  pincers,  screws,  and  Alec  Forbes,  the  snow  was  busy 
falling  outside,  shrouding  the  world  once  more ;  so  that  next 
day  the  child  could  not  get  out  upon  any  pretence.  Had  she 
succeeded  in  escaping  from  the  house,  she  might  have  been 
lost  in  the  snow,  or  drowned  in  the  Glamour,  over  which 
there  was  as  yet  only  a  rude  temporary  bridge  to  supply  the 
place  of  that  which  had  been  swept  away.  But  although 
very  uneasy  at  the  obstruction  of  her  projects,  she  took  good 
care  to  keep  her  own  counsel. — The  snow  was  very  obstinate 
to  go.  At  length,  after  many  days,  she  was  allowed  to  go 
out  with  stockings  over  her  shoes,  and  play  in  ^  the  garden. 
No  sooner  was  she  alone,  than  she  darted  out  of  the  garden 
by  the  back-gate,  and  before  her  mother  missed  her,  was 
crossing  the  Glamour.  She  had  never  been  so  far  alone,  and 
felt  frightened ;  but  she  pushed  bravely  forward. 

Mrs  Forbes  and  Aunie  Audi>rson  were  sitting  together  when 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  351 

Mary  put  lier  head  in  at  the  door  and  told  her  mistress  that 
the  daughter  of  Mr  Constable,  the  clothier,  wanted  to  see  her. 

"  Why,  she's  a  mere  infant,  Mary ! "  exclaimed  Mrs 
Forbes. 

"  'Deed  is  she,  mem  ;  but  she's  nana  the  less  doon  the  stair 
i'  the  kitchie.  Te  wad  hae  seen  her  come  yersel'  but  she's  ower 
wee.  Ye  cudna  get  a  glimp  o'  her  ower  the  edge  o'  the  snaw 
i'  the  cuttin'  doon  to  the  yett.  Hoo  her  fowk  cud  lat  her  oot ! 
She's  a  puir  wee  white-faced  elf  o'  a  crater,  but  she's  byous 
auld-farrand  and  wise-like,  and  naething  will  do  but  she  maun 
see  yersel',  mem." 

"  Bring  her  up,  Mary.  Poor  little  thing  !  "What  can  she 
want?" 

Presently  Isie  entered  the  room,  looking  timidly  about  her. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"It's  aboot  Alec,  mem,"  said  Isie,  glancing  towards  Annie. 

"  Well,  what  about  him  ?  "  asked  Mrs  Forbes,  considerably 
bewildered,  but  not  fearing  bad  news  from  the  mouth  of  such 
a  messenger. 

"  Hae  ye  heard  naething  aboot  him,  mem  ?  " 

"  Nothing  particular.  I  haven't  heard  from  him  for  a  fort- 
night." 

"  That's  easy  accoontit  for,  mem." 

"  AVhat  do  you  mean,  my  dear  ?     Speak  out." 

"  Weel,  mem,  the  way  I  heard  it  was  raither  particlar,  and 
I  wadna  like  a'body  to  ken." 

Here  she  glanced  again  at  Annie. 

"Tou  needn't  be  afraid  of  Annie  Anderson,"  said  Mrs 
Porbes  smiling.     "  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Weel,  mem,  I  didna  richfcly  ken.  But  they  hae  ta'en  him 
intil  a  dreidfu'  place,  and  whether  they  hae  left  a  haill  inch  o' 
skin  upon's  body,  is  mair  nor  I  can  tell ;  but  they  hae  rackit 
him,  and  pu'd  o'  's  nails  aff,  maybe  them  a',  and — " 

"  Good  heavens !  "  exclaimed  Mrs  Porbes,  with  a  most  un- 
usual inclination  to  hysterics,  seeing  something  terrible  peep 
from  behind  the  grotesque  report  of  Isie,  "  what  do  you  mean, 
chHd  ?  " 

"  I'm  tellin'  ye't  as  I  heard  it,  mem.  I  houp  they  haena 
brunt  him  yet.    Te  maun  gang  andtak'  him  oot  o'  their  ban's." 

"  Whose  hands,  child  ?     Who's  doing  all  this  to  him  ?  " 

"They  stan'  aboot  the  corners  o'  the  streets,  mem,  in 
muckle  toons,  and  they  catch  a  baud  o'  young  laads,  and  they 
trail  them  awa'  wi'  them,  and  they  jist  torment  the  life  oot  o' 
them.  They  say  they're  women  ;  but  I  dinna  believe  that.  It's 
no  possible.    They  maun  be  men  dressed  up  in  women's  claes." 


352  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

"Was  it  a  great  relief  to  the  mother's  heart  to  find  that  the 
childish  understanding  of  Isie  had  misinterpreted  and  misre- 
presented ?  She  rose  and  left  the  room,  and  her  troubled  step 
went  to  and  fro  overhead.  And  the  spirit  of  Annie  was 
troubled  likewise.  How  much  she  understood,  I  cannot  deter- 
mine ;  but  I  believe  that  a  sense  of  vague  horror  and  pity  over- 
whelmed her  heart.  Yet  the  strength  of  hep  kindness  forced 
her  to  pay  some  attention  to  the  innocent  lit'tle  messenger  of 
evil. 

"  "Whaur  heard  ye  a'  that,  Isie,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  heard  my  father  and  my  mither  gaein'  on  lamentin'  ower 
him  efter  I  was  i'  my  bed,  and  they  thocht  1  was  asleep. 
But  gin  Mistress  Forbes  winna  tak'  him  awa',  I'll  gang  and 
tell  a'  the  ministers  in  Glamerton,  and  see  whether  they  winna 
raise  the  toon." 

Annie  stared  in  amazement  at  the  wee  blue-eyed  wizened 
creature  before  her  speaking  with  the  decision  of  a  minor 
prophet. 

"  Is  the  child  here  still  ?  "  said  Mrs  Forbes  with  some 
asperity  as  she  re-entered  the  room.  "  I  must  go  by  the  mail 
this  afternoon,  Annie." 

"  That's  richt,  mem,"  said  Isie.  "  The  suner  the  better, 
I'm  sure.     He  mayna  be  deid  yet." 

"  What  a  very  odd  child  !  "  said  Mrs  Forbes. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  better  to  write  first,  ma'am  ?  "  suggested 
Annie. 

Before  Mrs  Forbes  could  reply,  the  white  mutch  of  Mrs 
Constable  appeared  over  the  top  of  the  snow  that  walled  the 
path.  She  was  in  hot  pursuit  of  her  child,  whose  footsteps  she 
had  traced.  When  shown  into  the  dining-room,  she  rushed  up 
to  her,  and  caught  her  to  her  bosom,  crying, 

"  Te  ill-contrived  smatchit !  What  hae  ye  been  aboot, 
rinnin'  awa'  this  gait  ?  I  wonner  ye  wasna  droont  i'  the 
Glamour." 

"  I  don't  see  what  better  you  could  expect  of  your  own 
child,  Mrs  Constable,  if  you  go  spreading  reports  against  other 
people's  children,"  said  Mrs  Forbes  bitterly. 

"  It's  a  lee  whaever  said  sae,"  retorted  Mrs  Constable 
fiercely.     "  Wha  tell't  ye  that  ?  " 

"  AVhere  else  could  your  child  have  heard  such  reports, 
then  ?  " 

"Isie!  Isie!  My  poor  wee  bairn!  What  hae  ye  been 
aboot  to  tak'  awa'  yer  mither's  gude  name  ?  " 

And  she  hugged  the  child  closer  yet. 

Isie  hung  down  her  head,  and  began  to  have  dim  perceptions 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  353 

that  she  might  have  been  doing  mischief  with  the  best  possible 
intentions. 

"  I  only  tell't  Mistress  Forbes  boo  ill  they  war  to  Alec." 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  Mrs  Constable  turned  with  a 
subdued  manner  to  Mrs  Forbes. 

"  The  bairn's  a  curious  bairn,  mem,"  she  said.  "And  she's 
owerheard  her  father  and  me  speakin'  thegither  as  gin't  had 
been  only  ae  body  thin  kin'.  For  gin  ever  twa  was  ane,  that 
twa  and  that  ane  is  Andrew  Constable  and  mysel'." 

"  But  what  right  had  you  to  talk  about  my  son  ?  " 

"  Weel,  mem,  that  queston  gangs  raither  far.  What's 
already  procleemed  frae  the  hoose-taps  may  surely  be  spoken 
i'  the  ear  in  closets — for  oor  back-room  is  but  a  closet.  Gin 
ye  think  that  fowk'll  baud  their  tongues  about  your  bairn 
mair  nor  ony  ither  body's  bairn  ye're  mista'en,  mem.  But 
never  ane  heard  o'  't  frae  me,  and  I  can  tak'  my  bodily  aith 
for  my  man,  for  he's  jist  by  ordinar'  for  haudin'  his  tongue. 
I  cud  hardly  worm  it  oot  o'  'm  mysel'." 

Mrs  Forbes  saw  that  she  had  been  too  hasty. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean,  Mrs  Constable?  "  she  said,  "for 
I  am  quite  ignorant." 

"  Ye  may  weel  be  that,  mem.  And  maybe  there's  no  a  word 
o'  trouth  i'  the  story,  for  I'm  doobtin'  the  win'  that  brocht  it 
blew  frae  an  ill  airt." 

"  I  really  don't  understand  you,  Mrs  Constable.  What  do 
they  say  about  him  ?  " 

"  Ow,  jist  that  he's  consortin'  wi'  the  warst  o'  ill  company, 
mem.  But  as  I  said  to  Anerew,  maybe  he'll  come  oot  o'  their 
cluiks  no  that  muckle  the  waur,  efter  a'." 

Mrs  Forbes  sank  on  the  sofa,  and  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands.  Annie  turned  white  as  death,  and  left  the  room. 
When  Mrs  Forbes  lifted  her  head,  Mrs  Constable  and  her 
strange  child  had  vanished. 

Mrs  Forbes  and  Annie  wept  together  bitterly,  in  the 
shadow  of  death  which  the  loved  one  cast  upon  them  across 
the  white  plains  and  hills.  Then  the  mother  sat  down  and 
wrote,  begging  hitn  to  den}^  the  terrible  charge  ;  after  which 
they  both  felt  easier.  But  when  the  return  of  post  had 
brought  no  reply,  and  the  next  day  was  likewise  barren  of 
tidings,  Mrs  Forbes  resolved  to  go  to  the  hateful  city  at  once. 


23 


354 


CHAPTEE  LXXYI. 

When  Alec  woke  in  the  morning,  it  rushed  upon  his  mind 
that  he  had  had  a  terrible  dream  ;  and  he  reproached  himself 
that  even  in  a  dream  he  should  be  capable  of  striking  to  the 
earth  the  friend  who  had  just  saved  him  from  disgrace,  and 
wanted  to  save  him  from  more.  But  as  his  headache  began 
to  yield  to  cold  water,  discomposing  doubts  rose  upon  his 
clearing  mental  horizon.  They  were  absurd,  but  still  they 
were  unpleasant.  It  could  be  only  a  dream  that  he  had  felled 
the  man  twice  his  age,  and  half  his  size,  who  had  once  shed 
his  blood  for  him.  But  why  did  it  look  so  like  fact,  if  it  was 
only  a  dream  ?  Horrible  thought !  Could  it  ? — It  could — It 
must  be — It  was  a  fact  ! 

Haggard  with  horror  as  well  as  revelry,  he  rushed  towards 
the  stair,  but  was  met  by  Mrs  Leslie,  who  stopped  him  and 
said: 

"  Mr  Porbes,  gin  you  and  Mr  Cupples  gang  on  at  this  rate, 
I'll  be  forced  to  gie  ye  baith  warnin'  to  flit.  I  oucht  to  hue 
written  to  yer  mither  afore  noo.  Te'll  brack  her  hert  or  a' 
be  dune.  Eh  !  it's  a  sair  thing  whan  young  lads  tak  to  drink, 
and  turn  reprobates  in  a  jifBe  (moment)." 

"  I  dinna  gang  to  your  kirk,  and  ye  needna  preach  to  me. 
"What's  the  maitter  wi'  Mr  Cupples  ?  He  hasna  ta'en  to 
drink  in  a  jiffie,  has  he  ?  " 

"  Ye  scorner !  He  cam  hame  last  nicht  bleedin'  at  the  heid, 
and  i'  the  ban's  o'  the  watchman.  Puir  man  !  he  cud  hardly 
win  up  the  stair.  I  canna  think  hoo  he  cam'  to  fa'  sae  sair ; 
for  they  say  there's  a  special  Providence  watches  ower  drunk 
men  and  bairns.  He  was  an  awfu'  sicht,  honest  man  !  A 
terrible  mixter  o'  reid  and  white." 

"  What  said  he  about  it  ?  "  asked  Alec,  trembling. 

"  Ow,  naething.  He  had  naething  till  say.  Te  maunna 
gang  near  him ;  for  I  left  him  fest  asleep.  G  ang  awa  benn  to  y  er 
ain  room,  and  I'll  be  in  wi'  yer  brakfast  in  ten  minutes.  Eli ! 
but  ye  wad  be  a  fine  lad  gin  ye  wad  only  gie  up  the  drink  and 
the  ill  company." 

Alec  obeyed,  ashamed  and  full  of  remorse.  The  only 
thing  he  could  do  was  to  attend  to  Mr  Cupples's  business  in 
the  library,  where  he  worked  at  the  catalogue  till  the  after- 
noon lecture  was  over. 

Nobody  had  seen  Beauchamp,  and  the  blinds  of  Kate's 
windows  were  drawn  doWu. 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  355 

All  day  his  heart  was  full  of  Mr  Cupples  ;  and  as  he  went 
home  he  recalled  everything  with  perfect  distinctness,  and  felt 
that  his  conduct  had  been  as  vile  as  it  was  possible  for  con- 
duct to  be.  Because  a  girl  could  not  love  him,  he  had 
ceased  to  love  his  mother,  had  given  himself  up  to  Satan,  and 
had  returned  the  devotion  of  his  friend  with  a  murderous 
blow.  Because  he  could  not  have  a  bed  of  roses,  he  had 
thrown  himself  down  in  the  pig-stye.  He  rushed  into  a  public- 
house,  and  swallowed  two  glasses  of  whisky.  That  done,  he 
went  straight  home,  and  ran  up  to  Mr  Cupples's  room. 

Mr  Cupples  was  sitting  before  the  fire,  with  his  hands  on 
his  knees  and  his  head  bound  in  white,  bloodstained.  He 
turned  a  ghastly  face,  and  tried  to  smile.  Alec's  heart  gave 
way  utterly.  He  knelt  at  Mr  Cupples's  feet,  laid  his  head  on 
his  knee,  and  burst  into  very  unsaxon  but  most  gracious 
tears.  Mr  Cupples  laid  a  small  trembling  hand  on  the  boy's 
^ead,  saying, 

"  Eh !  bantam,  bantam  1 "  and  could  say  no  more. 

"Mr  Cupples,"  sobbed  Alec,  "forgive  me.  I'll  cut  my 
throat,  gin  ye  like." 

"  Te  wad  do  better  to  cut  the  deevil's  throat." 

"  Hoo  could  I  do  that  ?     Tell  me,  and  I'll  do  't." 

"  Wi'  the  broken  whisky-bottle,  man.  That's  at  the  root 
o'  a'  the  mischeef.  It's  no  you.  It's  the  drink.  And  eh ! 
Alec,  we  micht  be  richt  happy  thegither  efter  that.  I  wad 
mak  a  scholar  o'  ye." 

"  Weel,  Mr  Cupples,  ye  hae  a  richt  to  demand  o'  me  what 
ye  like ;  for  henceforth  ye  hae  the  pooer  o'  life  or  deith  ower 
me.  But  gin  I  try  to  brak  throu  the  drinkin',  I  maun  baud 
oot  ower  frae  the  smell  o'  't ;  an'  I  doobt,"  added  Alec  slyly, 
"  ye  wadna  hae  the  chance  o'  makin'  muckle  o'  a  scholar  o'  me 
in  that  case." 

And  now  the  dark  roots  of  thought  and  feeling  blossomed 
into  the  fair  flower  of  resolution. 

"  Bantam,"  said  Mr  Cupples  solemnly,  "  I  sweir  to  God, 
gin  ye'll  gie  ower  the  drink  and  the  lave  o'  yer  ill  gaits,  I'll 
gie  ower  the  drink  as  weel.  I  hae  naething  ither  to  gie  ower. 
But  that  winna  be  easy,"  he  added  with  a  sigh,  stretching 
his  hand  towards  his  glass. 

From  a  sudden  influx  of  energy.  Alec  stretched  his  hand 
likewise  towards  the  same  glass,  and  laying  hold  on  it  as  Mr 
Cupples  was  raising  it  to  his  lips,  cried: 

"  I  sweir  to  God  likewise — And  noo,"  he  added,  leaving 
his  hold  of  the  glass,  "ye  daurna  drink  it." 

Mr  Cupples  threw  glass  and  all  into  the  fire. 


doG  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  That's  my  fareweel  libation  to  the  infernal  Bacchus,"  he 
said.  "  Lat  it  gang  to  swall  the  low  o'  Phlegethon.  But  eh  ! 
it's  a  terrible  undertakin'.  It's  mair  nor  Hercules  himsel' 
could  hae  made  onything  o'.  Bantam  !  I  hae  saicrifeesed  my- 
sel'  to  you.     Haud  to  your  pairt,  or  I  canna  haud  to  mine." 

It  was  indeed  a  terrible  undertaking.  I  doubt  whether 
either  of  them  would  have  had  courage  for  it,  had  he  not  been 
under  those  same  exciting  iniluences — which,  undermining 
all  power  of  manly  action,  yet  give  for  the  moment  a  certain 
amount  of  energy  to  expend.  But  the  limits  are  narrow 
within  which,  by  wasting  his  capital,  a  man  secures  a  supply 
of  pocket-money.     And  for  them  the  tug  of  war  was  to  come. 

They  sat  on  opposite  sides  of  the  table  and  stared  at  each 
other.  As  the  spirituous  tide  ebbed  from  the  brain,  more  and 
more  painful  visions  of  the  near  future  steamed  wp.  Yet 
even  already  conscience  began  to  sustain  them.  Her  wine 
was  strong,  and  they  were  so  little  used  to  it  that  it  even  ex- 
cited them. 

With  Alec  the  struggle  would  soon  be  over.  His  nervous 
system  would  speedily  recover  its  healthy  operations.  But 
Cupples — from  whose  veins  alcohol  had  expelled  the  blood, 
whose  skull  was  a  Circean  cup  of  hurtful  spells — would  not 
delirium  follow  for  him  ? 

Suddenly  Alec  laid  his  hand  on  the  bottle.  Mr  Cupples 
trembled.     Was  he  going  to  break  his  vow  already  ? 

"  Wadna't  be  better  to  fling  this  into  the  neist  yard,  Mr 
Cupples  ?  "  said  Alec.  "  We  daurna  fling  't  i'  the  fire.  It 
wad  set  the  chimley  in  a  low  {flame)  ^ 

"  Na,  na.     Lat  ye  't  sit,"  returned  Mr  Cupples. 

"  I  wad  be  clean  aff'rontit  gin  I  cudna  see  and  forbear. 
Ye  may  jist  pit  it  into  the  press  though.  A  body  needna  lay 
burdens  grievous  to  be  borne  upo'  himsel'  mair  nor  upo'  ither 
fowk.  Noo,  lat's  hae  a  game  o'  cribbage,  to  hand's  ohn  thocht 
aboot  it." 

They  played  two  or  three  games.  It  was  pathetic  to  see 
how  Mr  Cupples's  right  hand,  while  he  looked  at  the  cards  in 
his  left,  would  go  blindly  flitting  about  the  spot  where  his 
glass  had  always  used  to  stand;  and  how,  when  he  loolvcd  up 
unable  to  find  it,  his  face  shadowed  over  with  disapj)ointment. 
After  those  two  or  three  games,  he  threw  down  the  cards, 
saying,  .        ,        .  , 

"It  winna  do,  bantam.  I  dinna  like  the  cau'ts  the  nicht. 
Wi'oot  ony  thing  to  weet  them,  they're  dooms  dry.  What  say 
ye  to  a  chorus  o'  yEschylus  ?  " 

Alec's  habits  of  study  had  becu  quite  broken  up  of  late. 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  357 

Even  the  medical  lectures  aud  the  hospital  classes  had  heen 
neglected.  So  ^Eschylus  could  not  be  much  of  a  consolatory 
amusement  in  the  blank  which  follows  all  exorcism.  But  Cupples 
felt  that  if  no  good  spirit  came  into  the  empty  house,  sweeping 
and  garni:^hing  would  only  entice  the  seven  to  take  the  place 
of  the  one.  So  he  tried  to  interest  his  pupil  once  again  in  his 
old  studies  ;  and  b}'  frequent  changes  did  ere  long  succeed  in 
holding  tedium  at  bay. 

But  all  his  efforts  would  have  resulted  in  nothing  but  that 
vain  sweeping  and  garnishing,  had  not  both  their  hearts  been 
already  tenanted  by  one  good  and  strong  spirit — essential  life 
and  humanity.  That  spirit  was  Love,  which  at  the  long  last 
will  expel  whatsoever  opposeth  itself.  While  Alec  felt  that  he 
must  do  everything  to  please  Mr  Cupples,  he,  on  his  part,  felt 
that  all  the  future  of  the  youth  lay  in  his  hands.  He  forgot 
the  pangs  of  alcoholic  desire  in  his  fear  lest  Alec  should  not  be 
able  to  endure  the  tedium  of  abstinence ;  and  Alec's  gratitude 
and  remorse  made  him  humble  as  a  slave  to  the  little  big-hearted 
man  whom  he  had  injured  so  cruelly. 

"  I'm  tired  and  maun  gang  to  my  bed,  for  I  hae  a  sair 
heid,"  said  Mr  Cupples,  that  first  night. 

"That's  my  doin' !"  said  Alec,  sorrowfully. 

"  Gin  this  new  repentance  o'  yours  and  mine  turns  oot  to 
hae  onything  in't,  we'll  baith  hae  rizzon  to  be  thankfu'  that 
ye  cloured  {dinted)  my  skull,  Alec.  But  eh  me !  I'm  feared  I 
winna  sleep  muckle  the  nicht." 

"  Wad  ye  like  me  to  sit  up  wi'  ye  ?"  asked  Alec.  "I  cud 
sleep  i'  your  cheir  weel  eneuch." 

"  Issi,  na.  AVe  hae  baith  need  to  say  oor  prayers,  and  we 
cudna  do  that  weel  thegither.  Gang  ye  awa'  to  yer  bed,  and 
min'  yer  vow  to  God  and  to  me.  And  dinna  forget  yer  prayers, 
Alec." 

Neither  of  them  forgot  his  prayers.  Alec  slept  soundly — 
Mr  Cupples  not  at  all. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  when  Alec  appeared  in  the  morning,  "  I 
winna  tak  sic  a  hardship  upo'  me  anither  nicht.  Jist  open  the 
cat's  door  and  fling  the  bottle  into  somebody's  yard.  I  houp 
it  winna  cut  onybody's  feet." 

Alec  flew  to  the  cupboard,  and  dragged  out  the  demon. 

•"iS'oo,"  said  Mr  Cupples,  "  open  the  twa  doors  wide,  and 
fling  't  wi'  a  birr,  that  1  may  hear  its  last  speech  and  dyin' 
declaration." 

Alec  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  the  bottle  fell  on  the  stones 
of  a  little  court.     The  clash  rose  to  the  ears  of  Mr  Cupples. 

"  Thank  God!"  he  said  with  a  sigh. — "  Alec,  no  man  that 


35'8  ALEC   FOKBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

hasna  gane  throii  the  same,  can  tell  what  I  hae  gane  throu  this 
past  nicht,  wi'  that  deevil  i'  the  press  there  cryin'  '  Come  pree 
(taste)  me!  come  pree  me!'  But  I  heard  and  hearkened  not. 
And  yet  whiles  i'  the  nicht,  although  I'm  sure  I  didna  sleep  a 
wink,  I  thocht  I  was  fumblin'  awa'  at  the  lock  o'  the  press  an' 
cudna  get  it  opened.  And  the  press  was  a  coffin  set  up  upo'  its 
en',  an'  I  kent  that  there  was  a  corp  inside  it,  and  yet  1  tried 
sair  to  open't.  An'  syne  again,  I  thocht  it  was  the  gate  o' 
Paradees  afore  which  stud  the  angel  wi'  the  flamin'  sword  that 
turned  ilka  gait,  and  wadna  lat  me  in.  But  I'm  some  better 
sin  the  licht  cam,  and  I  wad  fain  hae  a  drappy  o'  that  fine  caller 
tipple  they  ca'  watter." 

Alec  ran  down  and  brought  it  cold  from  the  pump,  saying, 
as  Mr  Cupples  returned  the  tumbler  with  a  look  of  thanks, 

"  But  there's  the  tappit  hen.  I  doot  gin  we  lea'  her  i'  the 
press,  she'll  be  wantin'  to  lay." 

"  Na,  na,  nae  fear  o'  that.  She's  as  toom's  a  cock.  Gang 
and  luik.  The  last  drap  in  her  wame  flaw  oot  at  the  window 
i'  that  bottle.  Eh  !  Alec,  but  I'll  hae  a  sair  day,  and  ye  maun 
be  true  to  me.  Grie  me  my  Homer,  or  I'll  never  win  throu't. 
An  ye  may  lay  John  Milton  within  my  rax  {reach) ;  for  I  winna 
pit  my  leg  oot  o'  the  blankets  till  ye  come  hame.  Sae  ye 
maunna  be  langer  nor  ye  can  help." 

Alec  promised,  and  set  off  with  a  light  heart, 

Beauchamp  was  at  none  of  the  classes.  And  the  blinds  of 
Kate's  windows  were  still  drawn  down. 

For  a  whole  week  he  came  home  as  early  as  possible  and 
spent  the  rest  of  the  day  with  Mr  Cupples.  But  many  dreary 
hours  passed  over  them  both.  The  suffering  of  Mr  Cupples 
and  the  struggle  which  he  had  to  sustain  with  the  constant 
craving  of  his  whole  being,  are  perhaps  indescribable  ;  but  true 
to  his  vow  and  to  his  friend,  he  endured  manfully.  Still  it  was 
with  a  rueful-comical  look  and  a  sigh,  sometimes,  that  he  would 
sit  down  to  his  tea,  remarking, 

"  Eh,  man  !  this  is  meeserable  stuff" — awfu'  weyk  tipple — a 
pagan  invention  a'thegither." 

But  the  tea  comforted  the  poor  half-scorched,  half-sodden 
nerves  notwitlistanding,  and  by  slow  degrees  tliey  began  to 
gather  tone  and  strength  ;  his  appetite  improved  ;  and  at  the 
end  of  the  week,  he  resumed  his  duties  in  the  library.  And 
thenceforth,  as  soon  as  his  classes  were  over.  Alec  would  go  to 
the  library  to  Mr  Cupples,  or  on  other  days  Mr  Cupples  would 
linger  near  the  medical  school  or  hospital,  till  Aloe  came  out, 
and  then  they  would  go  home  togetlier.  Once  home,  both 
found  enough  to  do  in  getting  one  of  them  up  to  the  mark  of 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  359 

the  approacliing  examinations. — Two  pale-faced  creatures  they 
sat  there,  in  Mr  Cupples's  garret,  looking  wretched  and  sub- 
dued enough,  although  occasionally  they  broke  out  laughing, 
as  the  sparks  of  life  revived  and  flickered  into  merriment. 

Inquiring  after  Miss  Eraser,  Alec  learned  that  she  was  ill. 
The  maid  inquired  in  return  if  he  knew  anything  about  Mr 
Beauchamp. 


CHAPTEE  LXXVII. 


Mr  Cupples  and  Alec  were  hard  at  work — the  table 
covered  with  books  and  papers  ;  when  a  knock  came  to  the 
door — the  rarest  occurrence  in  that  skyey  region — and  the 
landlady  ushered  in  Mrs  Forbes. 

The  two  men  sprang  to  their  feet,  and  Mrs  Porbes  stared 
with  gratified  amazement.  The  place  was  crowded  with  signs 
of  intellectual  labour,  and  not  even  a  pack  of  cards  was  visible. 

"  Why  didn't  you  answer  my  last  letter,  Alec?"  she  said. 

It  had  dropped  behind  some  books,  and  he  had  never  seen  it 

"  What  is  the  meaning,  then,  of  such  reports  about  you  ?" 
she  resumed,  venturing  to  put  tlie  question  in  the  presence  of 
Mr  Cupples  in  the  hope  of  a  corroborated  refutation. 

Alec  looked  confused,  grew  red,  and  was  silent.  Mr  Cup- 
ples took  up  the  reply. 

"  Te  see,  mem,  it's  a  pairt  o'  the  edication  o'  the  human 
individual,  frae  the  time  o'  Adam  and  Eve  doonwith,  to  learn 
to  refuse  the  evil  and  chowse  the  guid.  This  doesna  aye  come 
o'  eatin'  butter  and  honey,  but  whiles  o'  eatin'  aise  {ashes) 
and  dirt.  Noo,  my  pupil,  here,  mem,  your  son,  has  eaten  that 
dirt  and  made  that  chice.  And  I'll  be  caution  (security)  for 
him  that  he'll  never  mair  return  to  wallow  i'  that  mire.  It's 
three  weeks,  mem,  sin  ae  drop  o'  whusky  has  passed  his  mou." 

"  Whisky  !  "  exclaimed  the  mother.  "  Alec !  Is  it 
possible  ?  " 

"  Mem,  mem !  It  wad  become  ye  better  to  fa'  doon  upo' 
yer  knees  and  thank  the  God  that's  brocht  him  oot  o'  a  fearfu' 
pit  and  oot  o'  the  miry  clay  and  set  his  feet  upon  a  rock.  But 
the  rock's  some  sma'  i'  the  fit-haud,  and  ae  word  micht  jist 
caw  him  aff  o'  't  again.  Gin  ye  fa'  to  upbraidin'  o'  'm,  ye 
may  gar  him  clean  forget's  washin'." 

But  IVirs  Forbes  was  proud,  and  did  not  like  interference 


u-' 


360  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

between  her  and  her  son.  Had  she  found  things  as  bad  as 
she  had  expected,  she  wonld  have  been  humble.  Now  that 
her  fears  had  abated,  her  natural  pride  had  returned. 

"  Take  me  to  your  own  room,  Alec,"  she  said. 

"  Ay,  ay,  mem.  Tak'  him  wi'  ye.  But  caw  cannie,  ye  ken, 
or  ye'U  gie  me  a  deevil  o'  a  job  wi'  'm." 

With  a  smile  to  Cupples,  Alec  led  the  way. 

He  would  have  told  his  mother  almost  everything  if  she 
had  been  genial.  As  she  was,  he  contented  himself  with  a 
general  confession  that  he  had  been  behaving  very  badly,  and 
would  have  grown  ten  times  worse  but  for  Mr  Cupples,  who 
was  the  best  friend  that  he  had  ou  earth. 

"  Better  than  your  mother,  Alec  ?  "  she  asked,  jealously. 

"  I  was  no  kith  or  kin  of  his,  and  yet  he  loved  me,"  said 
Alec. 

"  He  ought  to  have  behaved  more  like  a  gentleman  to  me." 

"  Mother,  you  don't  understand  Mr  Cupples.  He's  a 
strange  creature.  He  takes  a  pride  in  speaking  the  broadest 
Scotch,  when  he  could  talk  to  you  in  more  languages  than  you 
ever  heard  of,  if  he  liked." 

"  I  don't  think  he's  fit  company  for  you  anyhow.  We'll 
change  the  subject,  if  you  please." 

So  Alec  was  yet  more  annoyed,  and  the  intercourse  be- 
tween mother  and  son  was  forced  and  uncomfortable.  As  soon 
as  she  retired  to  rest.  Alec  bounded  up  stairs  again. 

"Never  mind  my  mother,"  he  cried.  "  She's  a  good  wo- 
man, but  she's  vexed  with  me,  and  lets  it  out  on  you." 

"Mind  her!"  answered  Mr  (Supples;  "she's  a  verra  fine 
woman ;  and  she  may  say  what  she  likes  to  me.  She'll  be  a' 
richt  the  morn's  mornin'.  A  woman  wi'  ae  son's  like  a  coo 
wi'  ae  horn,  some  kittle  (ticJdisIi),  ye  ken.  I  cud  see  in  her 
een  haili  coal-pits  o'  aftection.  She  wad  dee  for  ye,  afore  ye 
cud  say — '  Dinna,  mither.'  " 

Next  day  they  went  to  call  on  Professor  Praser.  He  re- 
ceived them  kindly,  and  thanked  Mrs  Forbes  for  her  attentions 
to  his  niece.  But  he  seemed  oppressed  and  troubled.  His 
niece  was  far  from  well,  he  said — had  not  left  her  room  for 
some  weeks,  and  could  see  no  one. 

Mrs  Forbes  associated  Alec's  conduct  with  Kate's  illness, 
but  said  nothing  about  her  suspicions.  After  one  day  more, 
she  returned  home,  reassured  by  but  not  satisfied  with  her 
visit.  She  felt  that  Alec  had  outgrown  his  former  relation  to 
her,  and  had  a  dim  perception  that  her  pride  had  prevented 
them  from  entering  upon  a  yet  closer  relation.  It  is  tlieir  own 
fault  when  mothers  lose  by  the  (jrowth  of  their  children. 


361 


CHAPTEE  LXXVIII. 

Meantime,  Annie  was  passing  through  a  strange  experi- 
ence. It  gave  her  a  dreadful  shock  to  know  that  such  things 
were  reported  of  her  hero,  her  champion.  They  could  not  be 
true,  else  Chaos  was  come  again.  But  when  no  exultant  de- 
nial of  them  arrived  from  the  pen  of  his  mother,  although  she 
wrote  as  she  had  promised,  then  she  understood  by  degrees 
that  the  youth  had  erred  from  the  path,  and  had  denied  the 
Lord  that  bought  him.  She  brooded  and  fancied  and  recoiled 
•(iill  the  thought  of  him  became  so  painful  that  she  turned  from 
it,  rather  than  from  him,  with  discomfort  amounting  almost  to 
disgust.  .  He  had  been  to  her  the  centre  of  all  that  was  noble 
and  true.  And  he  revelled  in  company  of  which  she  knew 
nothing  except  from  far-off  hints  of  unapproachable  pollution  ! 
Her  idol  all  of  silver  hue  was  blackened  with  the  breath  of 
sulphur,  and  the  world  was  overspread  with  the  darkness  which 
radiated  from  it. 

In  this  mood  she  went  to  the  week-evening  service  at  Mr 
Turnbull's  chapel.  There  she  sat  listless,  looking  for  no  help, 
and  caring  for  none  of  the  hymns  or  prayers.  At  length  Mr 
TurnbuU  began  to  read  the  story  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  And 
during  the  reading  her  distress  vanished  like  snow  in  the  sun- 
shine. For  she  took  for  her  own  the  character  of  the  elder 
brother,  prayed  for  forgiveness,  and  came  away  loving  Alec 
Porbes  more  than  ever  she  had  loved  him  before.  If  God 
could  love  the  Prodigal,  might  she  not,  ought  she  not  to  love 
him  too  ? — The  deepest  source  of  her  misery,  though  she  did 
not  know  that  it  was,  had  been  the  fading  of  her  love  to  him. 

And  as  she  walked  home  through  the  dark,  the  story  grew 
into  other  comfort.  A  prodigal  might  see  the  face  of  God, 
then  !  He  was  no  grand  monarch,  but  a  homely  father.  He 
would  receive  her  one  day,  and  let  her  look  in  his  face. 

Nor  did  the  trouble  return  any  more.  Prom  that  one  mo- 
ment, no  feeling  of  repugnance  ever  mingled  with  her  thought 
of  Alec.  For  such  a  one  as  he  could  not  help  repenting,  she 
said.  He  would  be  sure  to  rise  and  go  back  to  his  Father.  She 
would  not  have  found  it  hard  to  believe  even,  that,  come  early, 
or  linger  late,  no  swine-keeping  son  of  the  Father  will  be  able 
to  help  repenting  at  last ;  that  no  God-born  soul  will  be  able 
to  go  on  trying  to  satisfy  himself  with  the  husks  that  the 
swine  eat,  or  to  refrain  from  thinking  of  his  Father's  house, 
and  wishing  himself  within  its  walls  even  in  the   meanest 


362  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

place ;  or  tbat  sucli  a  wisli  is  prelude  to  the  best  robe  and  the 
ring  and  the  fatted  calf,  when  the  Father  would  spend  himself 
in  joyous  obliteration  of  his  son's  past  and  its  misery — having 
got  him  back  bis  very  own,  and  better  than  when  he  went,  be- 
cause more  humble  and  more  loving. 

When  Mrs  Forbes  came  home,  she  entered  into  no  detail, 
and  was  disinclined  to  talk  about  the  matter  at  all,  probably 
as  much  from  dissatisfaction  with  herself  as  with  her  son. 
But  Annie's  heart  blossomed  into  a  quiet  delight  when  she 
learned  that  the  facts  were  not  so  bad  as  the  reports,  and  that 
there  was  no  doubt  he  would  yet  live  them  all  down. 

The  evil  time  was  drawing  nigh,  ushered  by  gentler  gales 
and  snowdrops,  when  she  must  be  turned  out  for  the  spring 
and  summer.  She  would  feel  it  more  than  ever,  but  less  than 
if  her  aunt  had  not  explained  to  her  that  she  had  a  right  to  the 
shelter  afforded  her  by  the  Bruces. 

Meantime  arrived  a  letter  from  Mr  Cupples. 

"  Deae  Madam, — After  all  the  efforts  of  Mr  Alec,  aided 
by  my  best  endeavours,  but  counteracted  by  the  grief  of  know- 
ing that  his  cousin.  Miss  Fraser,  entertained  a  devoted  regard 
for  a  worthless  class-fellow  of  his — after  all  our  united  efibrts, 
Mr  Alec  has  not  been  able  to  pass  more  than  two  of  his  ex- 
aminations. I  am  certain  he  would  have  done  better  but  for 
the  unhappiness  to  which  I  have  referred,  combined  with  the 
illness  of  Miss  Fraser.  In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two,  he  will 
return  to  you,  when,  if  you  can  succeed,  as  none  but  mothers 
can,  in  restoring  him  to  some  composure  of  mind,  he  will  be 
perfectly  able  during  the  vacation  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 

"  I  am,  dear  madam,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  Cosmo  Cupples." 

Angry  with  Kate,  annoyed  with  her  son,  vexed  with  herself, 
and  indignant  at  the  mediation  of  "that  dirty  vulgar  little 
man,"  Mrs  Forbes  forgot  her  usual  restraint,  and  throwing  the 
letter  across  the  table  with  the  words  "  Bad  news,  Annie,"  left 
the  room.  But  the  effect  produced  upon  Annie  by  the  contents 
of  the  letter  was  very  different. 

Hitherto  she  had  looked  up  to  Alec  as  a  great  strong  crea- 
ture. Her  faith  in  him  had  been  unquestioning  and  unbounded. 
Even  his  wrong-doings  had  not  impressed  her  with  any  sense 
of  his  weakness.  But  now,  rejected  and  disgraced,  his  mother 
dissatisfied,  his  friend  disappointed,  and  himself  foiled  in  the 
battle  of  life,  he  had  fallen  upon  evil  days,  and  all  the  woman 
in  Annie  rose  for  his  defence.  In  a  moment  they  had  changed 
places  iu  the  world  of  her  moral  imagination.    The  strong  youth 


ALEC   FORBES  OF   HOWGLEN.  363 

was  weak  and  defenceless :  the  gentle  girl  opened  the  heart 
almost  of  motherhood,  to  receive  and  shelter  the  worn  outraged 
man.  A  new  tenderness,  a  new  pity  took  possession  of  her. 
Indignant  with  Kate,  angry  with  the  professors,  ready  to  kiss 
the  hands  of  Mr  Cupples,  all  the  tenderness  of  her  tender 
nature  gathered  about  her  fallen  hero,  and  she  was  more  like 
his  wife  defending  him  from  her  mother.  Now  she  could  be 
something  if  not  to  him  yet  for  him.  He  had  been  a  "  bright 
particular  star"  "beyond  her  sphere,"  but  now  the  star  lay 
in  the  grass,  shorn  of  its  beams,  and  she  took  it  to  her  bosom. 

Two  days  passed.  On  the  third  evening  in  walked  Alec, 
pale  and  trembling,  evidently  ill,  too  ill  to  be  questioned.  His 
breathing  was  short  and  checked  by  pain. 

"  If  I  hadn't  come  at  once,  mother,"  he  said,  "  I  should  have 
been  laid  up  there.     It's  pleurisy,  Mr  Cupples  says." 

"  My  poor  boy  !  " 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  care." 

"You've  been  working  too  hard,  dear." 

Alec  laughed  bitterly. 

"  I  did  work,  mother;  but  it  doesn't  matter.     She's  dead." 

"  Who's  dead  ?  "   exclaimed  his  mother. 

"  Kate's  dead.  And  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  tried  hard. 
And  it's  all  my  fault  too.  Cupples  says  she's  better  dead. 
But  I  might  have  saved  her." 

He  started  from  the  sofa,  and  went  pacing  about  the  room, 
his  face  flushed  and  his  breath  coming  faster  and  shorter. 
His  mother  got  him  to  lie  down  again,  and  asked  no  more 
questions.  The  doctor  came  and  bled  him  at  the  arm,  and  sent 
him  to  bed. 

When  Annie  saw  him  worn  and  ill,  her  heart  swelled  till 
she  could  hardly  bear  the  aching  of  it.  She  would  have  been 
his  slave,  and  she  could  do  nothing.  She  must  leave  him 
instead.  She  went  to  her  room,  put  on  her  bonnet  and  cloak, 
and  was  leaving  the  house  when  Mrs  Forbes  caught  sight  of 
her. 

"  Annie  !  what  do  you  mean,  child  ?  You're  not  going  to 
leave  me  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't  want  me  any  more,  ma'am." 

"  You  silly  child  !  " 

Annie  ran  back  to  her  room,  thvis  compromising  with  a 
strong  inclination  to  dance  back  to  it. 

When  Mr  Cupples  and  Alec  had  begun  to  place  confidence 
in  each  other's  self-denial,  they  cared  less  to  dog  each  otlier. — 
Alec  finding  at  the  Natural  Philosophy  examination  that  he 
had  no   chance,  gathered  his  papers,  and  leaving  the  room. 


364  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLElSr. 

wandered  away  to  liis  former  refuge  when  miserable,  that  long 
desolate  stretch  of  barren  sand  between  the  mouths  of  the  two 
rivers.  Here  he  wandered  till  long  after  the  dusk  had  deep- 
ened into  night. — A  sound  as  of  one  singing  came  across  the 
links,  and  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  He  turned  in  the  direction 
of  it,  for  something  in  the  tones  reminded  him  of  Kate  ;  and 
he  almost  believed  the  song  was  her  nurse's  ghostly  ballad. 
But  it  ceased ;  and  after  walking  some  distance  inland,  he 
turned  again  towards  the  sea.  The  song  rose  once  more,  but 
now  between  him  and  the  sea.  He  ran  towards  it,  falling  re- 
peatedly on  the  broken  ground.  By  the  time  he  reached  the 
shore,  the  singing  had  again  ceased,  but  presently  a  wild  cry 
came  from  seawards,  where  the  waves  far  out  were  still  ebbing 
from  the  shore.  He  dashed  along  the  glimmering  sands, 
thinking  he  caught  glimpses  of  something  white,  but  there  was 
no  moon  to  give  any  certainty.  As  he  advanced  he  became 
surer,  but  the  sea  was  between.  He  rushed  in.  Deeper  and 
deeper  grew  the  water.  He  swam.  But  before  he  could 
reach  the  spot,  for  he  had  taken  to  the  water  too  soon,  with 
another  cry  the  ligure  vanished,  probably  in  one  of  those  deep 
pits  which  abound  along  that  shore.  Still  he  held  on,  diving 
many  times,  but  in  vain.  His  vigour  was  not  now  what  it  had 
once  been,  and  at  length  he  was  so  exhausted,  that  when  he 
came  to  himself,  lying  on  his  back  in  the  dry  sands,  he  had 
quite  foi'gotten  how  he  came  there.  He  would  have  rushed 
again  into  the  water,  but  he  could  scarcely  move  his  limbs. 
He  actually  crawled  part  of  the  way  across  the  links  to  the 
college.  There  he  inquired  if  Miss  Fraser  was  in  the  house. 
The  maid  assured  him  that  she  was  in  her  own  room,  where- 
upon he  went  home.  But  he  had  scarcely  gone  before  they 
discovered  that  her  room  was  deserted,  and  she  nowhere  to  h( 
found.  The  shock  of  this  news  rendered  it  impossible  for  him 
to  throw  off  the  effects  of  his  exposure.  But  he  lingered  on 
till  Mr  Cupples  compelled  him  to  go  home.  K'ot  even  then, 
however,  had  her  body  been  recovered.  Alec  was  convinced 
that  she  had  got  into  one  of  the  quicksands  ;  but  it  was  cast 
ashore  a  few  days  after  his  departure,  and  it  was  well  that  he 
did  not  see  it.  He  did  not  learn  the  fact  till  many  years  after. 
It  soon  transpired  that  she  had  been  out  of  her  mind  for 
some  time.  Indeed  rumours  of  the  sort  bad  been  ailoat  before. 
The  proximate  cause  of  her  insanity  was  not  certainly  known. 
Some  suspicion  of  the  worthlessness  of  her  lover,  some  en- 
lightenment as  to  his  perfidy,  or  his  unaccountable  disap- 
pearance alone,  may  have  occasioned  its  manifestation.  Biit 
there  is  great  reason  to  believe  that  she  had  a  natural  predis- 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  365 

position  to  it.  And  having  never  been  taught  to  provide  for 
her  own  mental  sustenance,  and  so  nourish  a  necessary  inde- 
pendence, she  had  been  too  ready  to  squander  the  wealth  of 
a  rich  and  lovely  nature  upon  an  unworthy  person,  and  the 
reaction  had  been  madness  and  death.  But  anything  was  better 
than  marrying  Beauchamp. 

One  strange  fact  in  the  case  was  her  inexplicable  aversion 
to  water — either  a  crude  prevision  of  her  coming  fate,  or,  in  the 
mysterious  operations  of  delirious  reasouiug,  the  actual  cause 
of  it.  The  sea,  visible  from  her  window  over  the  dreary  flat 
of  the  links,  may  have  fascinated  her,  and  drawn  her  to  her 
death.     Such  cases  are  not  unknown. 

During  the  worst  period  of  Alec's  illness,  he  was  ever  wan- 
dering along  that  shore,  or  swimming  in  those  deadly  waters. 
Sometimes  he  had  laid  hold  of  the  drowning  girl  and  was 
struggling  with  her  to  the  surface.  Sometimes  he. was  drawing 
her  in  an  agony  fi'om  the  swallowing  gullet  of  a  quicksand, 
which  held  her  fast,  and  swallowed  at  her  all  the  time  that  he 
fought  to  rescue  her  from  its  jawless  throat. 

Annie  took  her  turn  in  the  sick  chamber,  watching  beside 
the  half-unconscious  lad,  and  listening  anxiously  to  the  mur- 
murs that  broke  through  the  veil  of  his  dreams.  The  feeling 
with  which  she  had  received  the  prodigal  home  into  her  heart, 
spread  its  roots  deeper  and  wider,  and  bore  at  length  a  flower 
of  a  pale-rosy  flush — Annie's  love  revealed  to  herself — strong 
although  pale,  delicate  although  strong,  it  seemed  to  the  girl 
she  had  loved  him  so  always,  only  she  had  not  thought  about  it. 
He  had  fought  for  her  and  endured  for  her  at  school ;  he  had 
saved  her  life  from  the  greedy  waters  of  the  Glamour  at  the 
risk  of  his  own  :  she  would  be  the  most  ungrateful  of  girls  if 
she  did  not  love  him. — And  she  did  love  him  with  a  quiet  in- 
tensity peculiar  to  her  nature. 

Never  had  she  happier  hours  than  those  in  which  it  seemed, 
that  only  the  stars  and  the  angels  were  awake  besides  herself. 
And  if  while  watching  him  thus  at  night  she  grew  sleepy,  she 
would  kneel  down  and  pray  Grod  to  keep  her  awake,  lest  any 
harm  should  befall  Alec.  Then  she  would  wonder  if  even  the 
angels  could  do  without  sleep  always,  and  fancy  them  lying 
about  the  warm  fields  of  heaven  between  their  own  shadowy 
wings.  She  would  wonder  next  if  it  would  be  safe  for  God  to 
close  his  eyes  for  one  minute — safe  for  the  world,  she  meant ; 
and  hope  that,  if  ever  he  did  close  his  eyes,  that  might  not  be 
the  one  moment  when  she  should  see  his  face.  Then  she  would 
nod,  and  wake  up  with  a  start,  flutter  silently  to  her  feet,  and 
go  and  peep  at  the  slumberer.    Never  was  woman  happier  than 


366  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

Annie  was  during  those  blessed  midnights  and  cold  grey  dawns. 
Sometimes,  in  those  terrible  hours  after  midnight  that  belong 
neither  to  the  night  nor  the  day,  but  almost  to  the  primeval 
darkness,  the  terrors  of  the  darkness  would  seize  upon  her, 
and  she  would  sit  "  inhabiting  trembling."  But  the  lightest 
movement  of  the  sleeper  would  rouse  her,  and  a  glance  at  the 
place  where  he  lay  would  dispel  her  fears. 


CHAPTER  LXXIX. 


One  night  she  heard  a  rustling  amongst  the  bushes  in  the 
garden  ;  and  the  next  moment  a  subdued  voice  began  to  sing : 

I  waited  for  the  Lord  my  God  and  patiently  did  bear ; 
At  length  to  me  he  did  incline,  my  voice  and  cry  to  hear. 
He  took  me  from  a  fearful  pit,  and  from  the  miry  clay, 
And  on  a  rock  he  set  my  feet,  establishing  my  way. 

The  tune  was  that  wildest  of  trustful  wailings — 3Iartyrs' . 

"  I  didna  ken  that  ye  cared  aboot  psalm-tunes,  Mr  Cupples," 
murmured  Alec. 

The  singing  went  on  and  he  grew  restless. 

It  was  aneen'e  thing  to  go  out,  but  she  must  stop  the  sing- 
ing. If  it  was  Mr  Cupples,  she  could  have  nothing  to  fear. 
Besides,  a  bad  man  would  not  sing  that  song. — As  she  opened 
the  door,  a  soft  spring  wind  blew  upon  her  full  of  genial 
strength,  as  if  it  came  straight  from  those  dark  blue  clefts 
between  the  heavy  clouds  of  the  east.  Away  in  the  clear  west, 
the  half-moon  was  going  down  in  dreaming  stillness.  The  dark 
figure  of  a  little  man  stood  leaning  against  the  house,  singing 
gently. 

"  Are  you  Mr  Cupples  ?  "  she  said. 

The  man  started,  and  answered, 

"  Yes,  my  lass.     And  wha  are  ye  ?  " 

"  I'm  Annie  Anderson.  Alec's  some  disturbit  wi'  your 
singin'.  Te'll  wauk  him  up,  and  he'll  be  a  hantle  the  -w  aur 
o'  't." 

"  I  winna  sing  anither  stave.  It  was  lanesome  stan'in'  upo' 
the  ootside  here,  as  gin  I  war  ane  o'  the  foolish  virgins." 

"  Eh  !  wadna  that  be  dreidfu'  ?  "  responded  Annie  simply. 
Her  words  awoke  an  echo  iu  Mr  Cupples's  conscience,  but  he 
returned  no  reply. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWOLEN.  367 

"  Hoo's  Alec  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Some  better.  He's  growin'  better,  though  it's  langsome 
like." 

"  And  do  they  lippen  you  to  luik  efter  him,  no  ?  " 

"Ay.  What  for  no?  His  mither  wad  be  worn  to  deith 
gin  she  sat  up  ilka  nicht.  He  cauna  bide  ouybody  but  her  or 
me." 

"  Weel,  ye're  a  young  crater  to  hae  sic  a  chairge. — I  wrote 
to  Mrs  Forbes  twa  or  three  times,  but  I  got  but  ae  scrim  pit 
answer.  Sae  as  sune's  I  cud  win  awa',  I  cam'  to  speir  efter 
him  raysel'." 

"  Whan  did  ye  come,  Mr  Cupples  ?  " 

"  This  nicht.  Or  I  reckon  it's  last  nicht  noo.  But  or  I 
wan  ower  this  len'th,  ye  war  a'  i'  yer  beds,  and  I  daurna  dis- 
turb ye.  Sae  I  sat  doon  in  a  summer-seat  that  I  cam'  upo', 
and  smokit  my  pipe  and  luikit  at  the  stars  and  the  cluds. 
And  I  tried  to  sing  a  sang,  but  naething  but  psalms  wad  come, 
t^f>ir  the  nicht's  sae  awfu'  solemn,  whan  ye  win  richt  intil  the 
mids  o'  't !  It  jist  distresses  me  that  there's  naebody  up  to 
worship  God  a'  nicht  in  sic  a  nicht's  this." 

"  Nae  doobt  there's  mony  praisin'  him  that  we  canna 
see." 

"  Ow,  ay ;  nae  doobt.  But  aneath  this  lift,  and  breathin' 
the  houpfu'  air  o'  this  divine  darkness." 

Annie  did  not  quite  understand  him. 

"  I  maun  gang  back  to  Alec,"  she  said.  "  Te'll  come  ower 
the  morn,  Mr  Cupples,  and  hear  a'  aboot  him  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  that,  my  bairn.  Hoo  do  they  ca'  ye — for  I 
forget  names  dreidfu'  ?  " 

"  Annie  Anderson." 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  Annie  Anderson — I  hae  surely  heard  that  name 
afore. — Weel,  I  winna  forget  you,  whether  I  forget  yer  name 
or  no." 

"  B-ut  hae  ye  a  bed  ?  "  said  the  thoughtful  girl,  to  whom 
the  comfort  of  every  one  who  came  near  her  was  an  instinctive 
anxiety. 

"  Ow,  ay.  I  hae  a  bed  at  the  hoose  o'  a  sma',  jabberin', 
bitter-barkit  crater  they  ca'  King  Robert  the  Bruce." 

Annie  knew  that  he  must  be  occupying  her  room ;  and 
was  on  the  point  of  expressing  a  hope  that  he  "  wadna  be 
disturbit  wi'  the  rottans,"  when  she  saw  that  it  would  lead 
to  new  explanations  and  delays. 

"  Good  night,  Mr  Cupples,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
hand. 

Mr  Cupples  took  it  kindly,  saying : 


368  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  Are  ye  a  niece,  or  a  gran'-dochter  o'  the  lioose,  or  a  hired 
servan',  or  what  are  ye  ? — for  ye're  a  wice-spoken  lass  and  a 
bonnie." 

"  I'm  a  servan'  o'  the  hoose,"  said  Annie.  Then  after  a 
moment's  hesitation,  she  added,  "but  no  a  hired  ane." 

"  Te're  worth  hirin'  onyhoo,  hinnie  (Jioney)  ;  and  they're 
weel  afF  that  has  ye  i'  the  hoose  in  ony  capawcity.  An  auld 
man  lilie  me  may  say  that  to  yer  face.  Sae  I'll  awa'  to  my 
bed,  and  sing  the  lave  o'  my  psalm  as  I  gang." 

Mr  Cupples  had  a  proclivity  to  garrets.  He  could  not 
be  comfortable  if  any  person  was  over  his  head.  He  could 
breathe,  he  said,  Avhen  he  got  next  to  the  stars.  For  the  rats 
he  cared  nothing,  and  slept  as  if  the  garret  were  a  cellar  in 
heaven. 

It  had  been  a  sore  trial  of  his  manhood  to  keep  his  vow 
after  he  knew  that  Alec  was  safe  in  the  haven  of  a  sick-bed. 
He  knew  that  for  him,  if  he  were  once  happy  again,  there  was 
little  danger  of  a  relapse ;  for  his  physical  nature  had  not 
been  greatly  corrupted :  there  had  not  been  time  for  that. 
He  would  rise  from  his  sickness  newborn.  Hence  it  was  the 
harder  for  Mr  Cupples,  in  his  loneliness,  to  do  battle  with 
his  deep-rooted  desires.  He  would  never  drink  as  he  had 
done,  but  might  he  not  have  just  one  tumbler? — That  one 
tumbler  he  did  not  take.  And — rich  reward  ! — after  two 
months  the  well  of  song  within  him  began  to  gurgle  and  heave 
as  if  its  waters  would  break  forth  once  more  in  the  desert ; 
the  roseate  hue  returned  to  the  sunsets  ;  and  the  spring  came 
in  with  a  very  childhood  of  greenness. — The  obfuscations  of 
self-indulgence  will  soon  vanish  where  they  have  not  been 
sealed  by  crime  and  systematic  selfishness. 

Another  though  inferior  reward  was,  that  he  had  money 
in  his  pocket :  with  this  money  he  would  go  and  see  Alec 
[Forbes.  The  amount  being  small,  however,  he  would  save  it 
by  walking.  Hence  it  came  that  he  arrived  late  and  weary. 
Entering  the  first  shop  lie  came  to,  he  inquired  after  a  cheap 
lodging.  For  he  said  to  himself  that  the  humblest  inn  was 
beyond  his  means ;  though  probably  his  reason  for  avoiding 
such  a  shelter  was  the  same  as  made  him  ask  Alec  to  throw 
the  bottle  out  of  the  garret.  Eobcrt  Bruce  heard  his  question, 
and,  regarding  him  keenly  from  under  his  eyebrows,  debated 
with  himself  whether  the  applicant  was  respectable — that  is, 
whether  he  could  pay,  and  would  liring  upon  the  house  no 
discredit  by  the  liarbourage.  The  signs  of  such  a  man  aa 
Cupples  were  inscrutable  to  Bruce;  therefore  his  answer 
hunir  fire. 


ALEC  FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  369 

"  Are  ye  deif,  man  ?  "  said  Cup  pies  ;  "  or  are  ye  feared  to 
tyne  a  chance  by  giein'  a  fair  answer  to  a  fair  qneston  ?  " 

The  arrow  went  too  near  the  mark  not  to  irritate  Bruce. 

"  Gang  yer  wa's,"  said  he.  "  We  dinna  want  tramps  i' 
this  toon." 

"  AYeel,  I  am  a  tramp,  nae  doobt,"  returned  Cupples ; 
"  for  I  hae  come  ilka  bit  o'  the  road  upo'  my  ain  fit ;  but  I 
hae  read  in  history  o'  twa  or  three  tramps  that  war  respect- 
able fowk  for  a'  that.  Te  winna  gie  onything  i'  this  chop,  I 
doobt — nae  even  information. — "Will  ye  sell  me  an  unce  o' 
pigtail  ?  " 

"  Ow,  ay.     I'll  seirt  gin  ye'll  buy't." 

"  There's  the  bawbees,"  said  Cupples,  laying  the  orthodox 
pence  on  the  counter.  "  And  noo  will  ye  tell  me  whaur  I 
can  get  a  respectable,  dacent  place  to  lie  doon  in  ?  I'll  want 
it  for  a  week,  at  ony  rate." 

Before  he  had  finished  the  question,  the  door  behind  the 
counter  had  opened,  and  young  Bruce  had  entered.  Mr 
Cupples  knew  him  well  enough  by  sight  as  a  last  year's 
bejan. 

"  How  are  you  ?  "  he  said.  "  I  know  you,  though  I  don't 
know  your  name." 

"  My  name's  Eobert  Bruce,  Mr  Cupples." 

"A  fine  name — Robert  Bruce,"  he  replied. 

The  youth  turned  to  his  father,  and  said — 

"  This  gentleman  is  the  librarian  of  our  college,  father." 

Bruce  took  his  hat  oif  his  head,  and  set  it  on  the  counter. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I'm  terrible  short- 
sichtit  in  can'le-licht." 

"  I'm  used  to  bein'  mista'en',"  answered  Cupples  simply, 
perceiving  that  he  had  got  hold  of  a  character.  "  Mak  nae 
apologies,  I  beg  ye,  but  answer  my  queston." 

"  Weel,  sir,  to  tell  the  trowth,  seein'  ye're  a  gentleman,  we 
hae  a  room  oorsels.     But  it's  a  gari?et-room,  and  maybe — " 

"  Then  I'll  hae't,  whatever  it  be,  gin  ye  dinna  want  ower 
muckle  for't." 

"  AVeel,  ye  see,  sir,  your  college  is  a  great  expense  to 
heumble  fowk  like  oorsels,  and  we  hae  to  mak  it  up  the  best 
way  that  we  can." 

"  Nae  doot.     Hoo  muckle  do  ye  want  ?  " 

"  Wad  ye  think  five  shillins  ower  muckle  ?  " 

"  'Deed  wad  I." 

"  Weel,  we'll  say  three  than — to  you,  sir." 

"  I  winna  gie  ye  mair  nor  half-a-croon." 

"  Hcot,  sir  !     It's  ower  little." 
24 


370  ALEC  FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

""Well,  I'll  look  further,"  said  Mr  Cupples,  putting  on 
English,  and  moving  to  the  door. 

"  Na,  sir ;  ye'll  do  nae  sic  thing.  Do  ye  think  I  Tvad  lat 
the  leebrarian  o'  my  son's  college  gang  oot  at  my  door  this  time 
o'  nicht,  to  luik  for  a  bed  till  himsel'  ?  Te  s'  jist  hae't  at  yer 
ain  price,  and  welcome.  Te'U  hae  yer  tay  and  sugar  and  bit- 
ties  o'  cheese  frae  me,  ye  ken  ?  " 

"  Of  course — of  course.  And  if  you  could  get  me  some  tea 
at  once,  I  should  be  obliged  to  you." 

"  Mother,"  cried  Bruce  through  the  house-door,  and  held 
a  momentary  whispering  with  the  partner  of  his  throne. 

"  So  your  name's  Bruce,  is  it  ?  "  resumed  Cupples,  as  the 
other  returned  to  the  counter. 

"  Robert  Bruce,  sir,  at  your  service." 

"  It's  a  gran'  name,'''  said  Cupples  with  emphasis. 

"  'Deed  is't,  and  I  hae  a  richt  to  beir  't." 

"  Te'll  be  a  descendant,  nae  doot,  o'  the  Terl  o'  Carrick  ?  " 
said  Cupples,  guessing  at  his  weakness. 

"  0'  the  king,  sir.  Fowk  may  think  little  o'  me  ;  but  I  come 
o'  him  that  freed  Scotland.  Grin  it  hadna  been  for  Bannock- 
burn,  sir,  whaur  wad  Scotland  hae  been  the  day  ?  " 

"  Nearhan'  civileezed  unner  the  fine  influences  o'  the 
English,  wi'  their  cultivation  and  their  mainners,  and,  aboon 
a',  their  gran'  Edwards  and  Hairries." 

"  I  dinna  richtly  unnerstan'  ye,  sir,"  said  Bruce.  "  Te 
hae  heard  hoo  the  king  clave  the  skull  o'  Sir  Henry  dee  Bo- 
hunn — haena  ye,  sir  ?  " 

"  Ow,  aye.  But  it  was  a  pity  it  wasna  the  ither  gait. 
Lat  me  see  the  way  to  my  room,  for  I  want  to  wash  my  ban's 
and  face.     They're  jist  barkit  wi'  stour  (dust).'' 

Bruce  hesitated  whether  to  show  Mr  Cupples  out  or  in. 
His  blue  blood  boiled  at  this  insult  to  his  great  progenitor. 
But  a  half-crown  would  cover  a  greater  wrong  than  that 
even,  and  he  obeyed.  Cupples  followed  him  up-stairs,  mur- 
muring to  himself: 

"  Shades  o'  Wallace  and  Bruce !  forgie  me.  But  to  see 
sma'  craters  cock  their  noses  and  their  tails  as  gin  they  had 
inherited  the  michty  deeds  as  weel  as  the  names  o'  their  for- 
bears, jist  scunners  me,  and  turns  my  blude  into  the  gall  o' 
bitterness — and  that's  scripter  for't." 

After  further  consultation,  Mr  and  Mrs  Bruce  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  it  might  be  politic,  for  Eobert's  sake,  to 
treat  the  librarian  with  consideration.  Consequently  Mrs 
Bruce  invited  him  to  go  down  to  his  tea  in  the  room.  De- 
scending before  it  was  quite  ready,  he  looked  about  him. 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  371 

The  only  thing  that  attracted  his  attention  was  a  handsomely 
bound  Bible.  This  he  took  up,  thinking  to  get  some  amuse- 
ment from  the  births  of  the  illustrious  Bruces  ;  but  the  only 
inscription  he  could  find,  besides  the  name  of  John  Cowie, 
was  the  following  in  pencil : 

"  Super  Davidis  Psalmum  tertium  vicesimum,  syfigrapliam 
■peciiniariam  centum  solidos  valentem,  quae,  me  mortuo,  a  Annie 
Anderson,  miki  dilecta,  sit,  posui.^' 

Then  came  some  figures,  and  then  the  date,  with  the 
initials  J.  C. 

Hence  it  was  that  Mr  Cupples  thought  he  had  heard  the 
name  of  Annie  Anderson  before. 

"  It's  a  gran'  Bible  this,  gudewife,"  he  said  as  Mrs  Bruce 
entered. 

"  Aye  is't.     It  belanged  to  oor  pairis-minister." 

Nothing  more  passed,  for  Mr  Cupples  was  hungry. 

After  a  long  sleep  in  the  morning,  he  called  upon  Mrs 
Forbes,  and  was  kindly  received ;  but  it  was  a  great  disap- 
pointment to  him  to  find  that  he  could  not  see  Alec.  As  he 
was  in  the  country,  however,  he  resolved  to  make  the  best  of 
it,  and  enjoy  himself  for  a  week.  For  his  asserted  dislike  to 
the  country,  though  genuine  at  the  time,  was  anything  but 
natural  to  him.  So  every  day  he  climbed  to  the  top  of  one 
or  other  of  the  hills  which  inclosed  the  valley,  and  was  re- 
warded with  fresh  vigour  and  renewed  joy.  He  had  not 
learned  to  read  Wordsworth ;  yet  not  a  wind  blew  through  a 
broom-bush,  but  it  blew  a  joy  from  it  into  his  heart.  He  too 
was  a  prodigal  returned  at  least  into  the  vestibule  of  his  Father's 
house.  And  the  Father  sent  the  servants  out  there  to  minis- 
ter to  him ;  and  Nature,  the  housekeeper,  put  the  robe  of 
health  upon  him,  and  gave  him  new  shoes  of  strength,  and  a 
ring,  though  not  the  Father's  white  stone.  The  delights  of 
those  spring  days  were  endless  to  him  whose  own  nature  was 
budding  with  new  life.  Familiar  with  all  the  cottage  ways, 
he  would  drop  into  any  hoosie  he  came  near  about  his  dinner- 
time, and  asking  for  a  piece  (of  oat-cake)  and  a  coguie  o'  milk, 
would  make  his  dinner  olf  those  content,  and  leave  a  trifle 
behind  him  in  acknowledgment.  But  he  would  always  con- 
trive that  as  the  gloamin  began  to  fall,  he  should  be  near 
Howglen,  that  he  might  inquire  after  his  friend.  And  Mrs 
Forbes  began  to  understand  him  better. — Before  the  week 
was  over,  there  was  not  a  man  or  woman  about  Howglen 
whom  he  did  not  itnow  even  by  name ;  for  to  his  surprise, 
even  his  forgetfulness  was  fast  vanishing  in  the  menstruum 
of  the  earth-spirit,  the  world's  breath  blown  over  the  corn. 


6t}i  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

In  particular  lie  liad  made  the  acquaintance  of  James  Dow, 
with  whose  knowing  simplicity  he  was  greatly  taken. 

On  the  last  day  but  one  of  his  intended  stay,  as  he  went 
to  make  his  daily  inquiry,  he  dropped  in  to  see  James  Dow 
in  the  "  harled  hypocrite."  James  had  come  in  from  his 
work,  and  was  sitting  alone  on  a  bench  by  the  table,  in  a 
corner  of  the  earth-floored  kitchen.  The  great  pot,  lidless, 
and  full  of  magnificent  potatoes,  was  hanging  above  the  fire, 
that  its  contents  might  be  quite  dry  for  supper.  Through 
the  little  window,  a  foot  and  a  half  square,  Cupples  could  see 
the  remains  of  a  hawthorn  hedge,  a  hundred  years  old — a 
hedge  no  longer,  but  a  row  of  knobby,  gnarled  trees,  full  of 
knees  and  elbows ;  and  through  the  trees  the  remains  of  an 
orange-coloured  sunset. — It  was  not  a  beautiful  country,  as  I 
have  said  before ;  but  the  spring  was  beautiful,  and  the 
heavens  were  always  beautiful ;  and,  like  the  plainest  woman's 
face,  the  country  itself,  in  its  best  moods,  had  no  end  of 
beauty. 

"  Hoo  are  ye,  Jeames  Doo  ?  " 

"  Fine,  I  thank  ye,  sir,"  said  James  rising. 

"  I  wad  raither  sit  doon  mysel',  nor  gar  you  stan'  up  efter 
yer  day's  work,  Jeames." 

"  Ow !  I  dinna  warstle  mysel'  to  the  deith  a'thegither." 

But  James,  who  was  not  a  healthy  man,  was  often  in  the 
wet  field  when  another  would  have  been  in  bed,  and  right- 
eously in  bed.  He  had  a  strong  feeling  of  the  worthlessness 
of  man's  life  in  comparison  with  the  work  he  has  to  do,  even 
if  that  work  be  only  the  spreading  of  a  t'other  of  dung.  His 
mistress  could  not  keep  him  from  his  work. 

Mr  Cupples  sat  down,  and  James  resumed  his  seat. 

"  Te're  awfu'  dubby  {wiry)  aboot  the  feet,  Mr  Cupples. 
Jist  gie  me  aff  yer  shune,  and  I'll  gie  them  a  scrape  and  a 
lick  wi'  the  blackin'-brush,"  said  James,  again  rising. 

"  Deil  tak'  me  gin  I  do  ony  sic  thing ! "  exclaimed  Mr 
Cupples.     "  My  shune'll  do  weel  eneuch." 

"  Whaur  got  ye  a'  that  dub,  sir  ?  The  roads  is  middlin' 
the  day." 

"  I  dinna  aye  stick  to  the  roads,  Jeames.  I  wan  intil  a 
bog  first,  and  syne  intil  some  plooed  Ian'  that  was  a'  lumps 
o'  clay  shiniu'  green  i'  the  sun.  Sae  it's  nae  wonner  gin  I  be 
some  elortit.  Will  ye  gie  me  a  pitawta,  Jeames,  in  place  o' 
the  blackin'-brush  ?  " 

"Ay,  twenty.  But  winna  ye  bide  till  Mysie  conies  in, 
and  hae  a  dra^ipy  milk  wi'  them  ?  They're  fine  jiitawtas  the 
year." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEJ^.  373 

"IS'a,  na,  I  haena  time." 

"  Weel,  jist  dip  into  the  pot,  and  help  yersel',  sir  ;  and  I'll 
luik  for  a  grainy  o'  saut." 

"  Hoo's  yer  mistress,  Jeames  ?     A  fine  woman  that !  " 

"  Kae  that  ill,  but  Kome  forfochteu  wi'  norsin'  Mr  Alee. 
Eh !  sir,  that's  a  fine  lad,  gin  he  wad  only  hand  steady." 

"  I'm  thinkin'  he  winna  gang  far  wrang  again.  He's  got- 
ten the  arles  (earnest)  and  he  winna  want  the  wages. — That's 
a  fine  lassie  that's  bidin'  wi'  them — Annie  Anderson  they  ca' 
her." 

"  'Deed  is  she,  sir.  I  kent  her  father  afore  her  day,  and  I 
hae  kent  her  sin  ever  she  had  a  day.  She's  ane  o'  the  finest 
bairns  ever  was  seen." 

"  Is  she  ony  relation  to  the  mistress  ?  " 

"  Ow,  na.     Nae  mair  relation  nor  'at  a'  gude  fowk's  sib." 

And  Dow  told  Cnpples  the  girl's  story,  including  the 
arrangement  made  with  Bruce  in  which  he  had  had  a  princi- 
pal part. 

"  Annie  Anderson — I  canna  mak'  oot  whaur  I  hae  heard 
her  name  afore." 

"  Te're  bidin'  at  Bruce's,  arena  ye,  Mr  Cupples  ?  " 

"Ay.     That  is,  I'm  sleepin'  there,  and  payin'  for't." 

"  Weel,  I  hae  little  doobt  ye  hae  heard  it  there." 

"  I  dinna  think  it.  But  maybe. — What  kin'  o'  ehiel'  's 
Bruce  ?  " 

"  He's  terrible  greedy." 

"  A  moudiwarp  {mole)  wi'  ae  ee  wad  see  that  afore  he  had 
winkit  twice." 

"  'Deed  micht  he." 

"  Is  he  honest  ?  " 

"  That's  hard  to  answer.  But  I  s'  gar  him  be  honest  wi' 
regaird  to  her,  gin  I  can." 

"  Wad  he  chait  ?  " 

"Ay.  Na.  He  wadna  chait  WMcI'Ze.  I  wadna  turn  my 
back  till  him,  though,  ohn  keekit  ower  my  shouther  to  hand 
him  sicker.    He  wadua  min'  doin'  ill  that  gude  micht  come." 

"  Ay,  ay  ;  I  ken  him.— And  the  ill  wad  be  whatever  hurtit 
anither  man,  and  the  gude  whatever  furthered  himsel  ?  "  said 
Mr  Cupples  as  he  dipped  the  last  morsel  of  his  third  potato 
in  the  salt  which  he  held  in  the  palm  of  his  left  hand. 

"  Ye  hae  said  it,  Mr  Cupples." 

And  therewith,  Mr  Cupples  bade  James  good-night,  and 
went  to  the  lioose. 

There  he  heard  the  happy  news  that  Alec  insisted  on 
seeing  him.     Against  her  will,  Mrs  Forbes  had  given  in,  as 


374  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

the  better  alternative  to  vexing  him.  The  result  of  the  inter- 
view vpas,  that  Cupples  sat  up  with  him  that  night,  and  Mrs 
Porbes  and  Annie  both  slept.  In  the  morning  he  found  a 
bed  ready  for  him,  to  which  he  reluctantly  betook  himself 
and  slept  for  a  couple  of  hours.  The  end  of  it  was,  that  he 
did  not  go  back  to  Mr  Bruce's  except  to  pay  his  bill.  Nor 
did  he  leave  Howglen  for  many  weeks. 

At  length,  one  lovely  morning,  when  the  green  corn  lay 
soaking  in  the  yellow  sunlight,  and  the  sky  rose  above  the 
earth  deep  and  pure  and  tender  like  the  thought  of  God 
about  it,  Alec  became  suddenly  aware  that  life  was  good,  and 
the  world  beautiful.  He  tried  to  raise  himself,  but  failed. 
Cupples  was  by  his  side  in  a  moment.  Alec  held  out  his 
hand  with  his  old  smile  so  long  disused.  Cupples  propped 
him  up  with  pillows,  and  opened  the  window  that  the  warm 
waves  of  the  air  might  break  into  the  cave  where  he  had  lain 
so  long  deaf  to  its  noises  and  insensible  to  its  influences. 
The  tide  flowed  into  his  chamber  like  Pactolus,  all  golden 
with  sunbeams.  He  lay  with  his  hands  before  him  and  his 
eyes  closed,  looking  so  happy  that  Cupples  gazed  with  re- 
verent delight,  for  he  thought  he  was  praying.  But  he  was 
only  blessed.  So  easily  can  God  make  a  man  happy  !  The 
past  had  dropped  from  him  like  a  wild  but  weary  and  sordid 
dream.  He  was  reborn,  a  new  child,  in  a  new  bright  world, 
with  a  glowing  summer  to  revel  in.  One  of  God's  lyric  pro- 
phets, the  larks,  was  within  earshot,  pouring  down  a  vocal 
summer  of  jubilant  melody.  The  lark  thought  nobody  was 
listening  but  his  wife;  but  God  heard  in  heaven,  and  the 
young  prodigal  heard  on  the  earth.  He  would  be  a  good 
child  henceforth,  for  one  bunch  of  sunrays  was  enough  to  be 
happy  upon.  His  mother  entered.  She  saw  the  beauty  upon 
her  boy's  worn  countenance  ;  she  saw  the  noble  watching  love 
on  that  of  his  friend  ;  her  own  fill*,  d  with  light,  and  she  stood 
transfixed  and  silent.  Annie  entered,  gazed  for  a  moment, 
fled  to  her  own  room,  and  burst  into  adoring  tears. — For  she 
had  seen  the  face  of  God,  and  that  face  was  Love — love  like 
the  human,  only  deeper,  deeper — tenderer,  lovelier,  stronger. 
She  could  not  recall  what  she  had  seen,  or  how  she  had 
known  it ;  but  the  conviction  remained  that  slie  had  seen  his 
face,  and  that  it  was  infinitely  beautiful. 

"  He  has  been  wi'  me  a'  the  time,  my  God  !  He  gied  me 
my  father,  and  sent  Broonie  to  tak'  care  o'  me,  and  Dooie, 
and  Thomas  Crann,  and  Mrs  Forbes,  and  Alec.  And  he  sent 
the  cat  whan  I  gaed  till  him  aboot  tlie  rottans.  An'  he's 
been  wi'  me  I  kenna  hoo  lang,  and  he's  wi'  me  noo.     And  I 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  375 

tae  seen  his  face,  and  I'll  see  his  face  again.  And  I'll  try 
sair  to  be  a  gude  bairn.  Eh  me  !  It's  jist  wonnerfu !  And 
God's  jist  ...  .  naething  but  God  himsel'." 


CHAPTER  LXXX. 


Although  Mr  Cupples  had  been  educated  for  the  Church, 
and  was  indeed  at  this  present  time  a  licentiate,  he  had  given 
up  all  thought  of  pursuing  what  had  been  his  mother's  am- 
bition rather  than  his  own  choice.  But  his  thoughts  had  not 
ceased  to  run  in  some  of  the  old  grooves,  although  a  certain 
scepticism  would  sometimes  set  him  examining  those  grooves 
to  find  out  whether  they  had  been  made  by  the  wheels  of  the 
gospel-chariot,  or  by  those  of  Juggernaut  in  the  disguise  of  a 
Hebrew  high  priest,  drawn  by  a  shouting  Christian  people. 
Indeed,  as  soon  as  he  ceased  to  go  to  church,  which  was  soon 
after  ceasing  to  regard  the  priesthood  as  his  future  profession, 
he  began  to  look  at  many  things  from  points  of  view  not  ex- 
clusively ecclesiastical.  So  that,  although  he  did  go  to 
church  at  Glamerton  for  several  Sundays,  the  day  arriving 
when  he  could  not  face  it  again,  he  did  not  scruple  to  set  off 
for  the  hills.  Coming  home  with  a  great  grand  purple  fox- 
glove in  his  hand,  he  met  some  of  the  missionars  returning 
from  their  chapel,  and  amongst  the  rest  Eobert  Bruce,  who 
stopped  and  spoke. 

"  I'm  surprised  to  see  ye  carryin'  that  thing  o'  the  Lord's 
day,  Mr  Cupples.     Fowk'll  think  ill  o'  ye." 

"  Weel,  ye  see,  Mr  Bruce,  it  angert  me  sae  to  see  the  ill- 
faured  thing  positeevely  growin'  there  upo'  the  Lord's  day, 
that  I  pu'd  it  up  'maist  by  the  reet.  To  think  o'  a  weyd  like 
that  prankin'  itsel'  oot  in  its  purple  and  its  spots  upo'  the 
Sawbath  day  !  It  canna  ken  what  it's  aboot.  I'm  only  feared 
I  left  eneuch  o'  't  to  be  up  again  afore  lang." 

"  I  doobt,  Mr  Cupples,  ye  haena  come  unner  the  pooer  o' 
grace  yet." 

"  A  pour  o'  creysh  {grease)  !  ISTa,  thank  ye.  I  dinna  want 
to  come  unner  a  pour  o'  creysh.  It  wad  blaud  me  a'thegither. 
Is  that  the  gait  ye  baptize  i'  your  conventicle  ?  " 

"  There's  nane  sae  deif  s  them  'at  winna  hear,  IMr  Cupples," 
said  Bruce.     "  I  mean — ye're  no  convertit  yet." 

"  jS'a.     I'm  no  convertit.     'Deed  no.     I  wadna  like  to  be 


376  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEJT. 

convertifc.  What  wad  ye  convert  me  till  ?  A  swine  ?  Or  a 
sma'  peddlin'  crater  that  tak's  a  bawbee  mair  for  rowiu'  up  the 
pigtail  in  a  foiil  paper  ?  Ca'  ye  that  conversion  ?  I'll  bide  as 
I  am." 

"  It's  waste  o'  precious  time  speikin'  to  you,  Mr  Cupples," 
returned  Bruce,  moving  off  with  a  red  face. 

"'Deed  is't,"  retorted  Cupples;  "and  I  houp  ye  winna 
forget  the  fac'  ?     It's  o'  consequens  to  me." 

But  he  had  quite  another  word  on  the  same  subject  for 
Annie  Anderson,  whom  he  overtook  on  her  way  to  Howglen 
— she  likewise  returning  from  the  missionar  kirk. 

"  Isna  that  a  bonnie  ring  o'  deicl  man's  hells,  Annie  ?  "  said 
he,  holding  out  the  foxglove,  and  calling  it  by  its  name  in  that 
part  of  the  country. 

"  Ay  is't.  But  that  was  ower  muckle  a  flooerto  tak'  to  the 
kirk  wi'  ye.     Te  wad  gar  the  fowk  laiich." 

"  What's  the  richt  flooer  to  tak'  to  the  kirk,  Annie  ?  " 
"  Ow  !  sober  floories  that  smell  o'  the  yird  {eartli),  like." 
"  Ay !  ay !     Sic  like's  what  ?  "  asked  Cupples,  for  he  had 
found  in  Annie  a  poetic  nature  that  delighted  him. 

"Ow!  sic  like's  thyme  and  southren-wood,  and  maybe  a 
bittie  o'  mignonette." 

"  Ay !  ay !  And  sae  the  cowmon  custom  abuses  you, 
young,  bonnie  lammies  o'  the  flock.  Wadna  ye  tak'  the  rose 
o'  Sharon  itsel',  nor  the  fire-reid  lilies  that  made  the  text  for 
the  Saviour's  sermon  ?  Ow !  na.  Te  maun  be  sober,  wi' 
flooers  bonnie  eneuch,  but  smellin'  o'  the  kirkyard  raither  nor 
the  blue  lift,  which  same's  the  sapphire  throne  o'  Him  that  sat 
thereon." 

"  Weel,  but  allooin'  that,  ye  sudna  gar  fowk  lauch,  wi'  a 
bonnie  flooer,  but  ridickleous  for  the  size  o'  't,  'cep'  ye  gie  't 
room.     A  kirk's  ower  little  for't." 

"  Te're  richt  there,  my  dawtie.     And  I  haena  been  to  the 
kirk  ava'.     I  hae  been  to  the  hills." 
"  And  what  got  ye  there  ?  " 
"  I  got  this  upo'  the  road  hame." 
"  But  what  got  ye  there  ?  " 
"  Weel,  I  got  the  blue  lift." 
"  And  what  was  that  to  ye  ?  " 

"  It  said  to  me  that  I  was  a  foolish  man  to  care  aboot  the 
claiks  and  the  strifes  o'  the  warl' ;  for  a'  was  quaiet  aboon, 
whatever  stramash  they  micht  be  makin'  doou  here  i'  the  cel- 
lars o'  the  speeritual  creation." 

Annie  was  silent :  w^hile  she  did  not  quite  understand  him, 
she  had  a  dim  perception  of  a  grand  meaning  in  what  he  said. 


ALEC  FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN  377 

The  fact  was  that  Annie  was  the  greater  of  the  two  in  esse  ; 
Clippies  the  greater  in  posse.  His  imagination  let  him  see 
things  far  beyoud  what  he  could  for  a  long  time  attain  unto. 

"  But  what  got  ye  at  the  kirk,  Anuie  ?  " 

"  Weel,  I  canna  say  I  got  verra  muckle  the  day.  Mr 
TurnbuU's  text  was,  'Thou,  Lord,  art  merciful,  for  thou  ren- 
derest  to  every  man  according  to  his  works.' " 

"  Te  micht  hae  gotten  a  hantel  oot  o'  that." 

"  Ay.  But  ye  see,  he  said  the  Lord  was  merciful  to  ither 
fowk  whan  he  rendert  to  the  wicked  the  punishment  due  to 
them.  And  I  cudna  richtly  feel  i'  my  hert  that  I  cud  praise 
the  Lord  for  that  mercy." 

"  I  dinna  wonner,  my  bairn." 

"  But  eh !  Mr  Cupples,  Mr  TurnbuU's  no  like  that  aye. 
He's  bonnie  upo'  the  Grospel  news.  I  wiss  ye  wad  gang  and 
hear  him  the  nicht.  I  canna  gang,  cause  Mrs  Forbes  is  gaun 
oot." 

"  I'll  gang  and  hear  him,  to  please  you,  my  lassie  ;  for,  as 
I  said,  I  haena  been  to  the  kirk  the  day." 

"  But  do  ye  think  it's  richt  to  brak  the  Sawbath,  Mr 
Cupples  ?  " 

"  Ay  and  no." 

"  I  dinna  unnerstan'  ye." 

"  "What  the  clergy  ca'  brakin'  the  Sawbath's  no  brakin'  o' 
't.  I'll  tell  ye  what  seems  to  me  the  differ  atween  the  like  o' 
your  Mr  TurnbuU  and  the  Pharisees — and  it's  a  great  differ. 
They  band  heavy  burdens  and  grievous  to  be  borne,  and  laid 
them  upo'  men's  shouthers,  but  wadna  touch  sic  like  to  carry 
them  wi'  ane  o'  their  fingers :  Mr  Turnbull  and  the  like  o'  him 
beirs  their  share.  But  the  burden's  nane  the  less  a  heavy  ane 
and  grievous  to  be  borne." 

"  But  the  burden's  no  that  grievous  to  me,  Mr  Cupples." 

"  There's  no  sayin'  what  you  women-fowk  will  not  tak'  a 
pleesur'  in  bearin' ;  but  the  passage  refers  expressly  to  the 
men's  shouthers.  And  faith  mine  will  not  endure  to  be  loadent 
wi'  ither  fowks  fykes  {trifles).  And  sae  come  alang,  deid  man's 
bells." 

Annie  thought  all  this  rather  dreadful,  but  she  was  not 
shocked  as  a  Christian  who  lives  by  the  clergy  and  their 
traditions,  instead  of  by  the  fresh  Spirit  of  God,  would  have 
been.  Tor  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  there  was  truth 
in  it. 

But  although  Cupples  could  say  much  to  set  Annie  think- 
ing, and  although  she  did  find  enlightenment  at  last  from 
pondering  over  his  words,  yet  she  could  have  told  him  far 


378  ALEC   rOKBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

deeper  things  than  lie  bad  yet  suspected  to  exist.  For  sTie 
knew  that  the  goal  of  all  life  is  the  face  of  God.  Perhaps  she 
had  to  learn  a  yet  higher  lesson :  that  our  one  free  home  is 
the  Heart,  the  eternal  lovely  Will  of  Grod,  than  that  which 
should  fail,  it  were  better  that  we  and  all  the  worlds  should 
go  out  in  blackness.  But  this  Will  is  our  Salvation,  Because 
He  liveth  we  shall  live  also. 

Mr  Cupples  found  in  the  missionar  kirk  a  certain  fervour 
which  pleased  him.  For  Mr  Turnbull,  finding  that  his  appeals 
to  the  ungodly  were  now  of  little  avail  to  attract  listeners  of 
the  class,  had  betaken  himself  to  the  building  up  of  the  body 
of  Christ,  dwelling  in  particular  upon  the  love  of  the  brethren. 
But  how  some  of  them  were  to  be  loved,  except  with  the  love 
of  compassionate  indignation,  even  his  most  rapt  listener 
Thomas  Crann  could  not  have  supposed  himself  capable  of 
explaining.  As  I  said,  however,  Mr  Cupples  found  the  ser- 
mon in  some  degree  impressive,  and  was  attentive.  As  he 
was  walking  away,  questioning  with  himself,  he  heard  a  voice 
in  the  air  above  him.  It  came  from  the  lips  of  Thomas 
Crann,  who,  although  stooping  from  asthma  and  rheumatism, 
still  rose  nearly  a  foot  above  the  head  of  Mr  Cupples. 

"  I  was  glaid  to  see  ye  at  oor  kirk,  sir,"  said  Thomas. 

"  Wha^t  for  that  ?  "  returned  the  librarian,  who  always 
repelled  first  approaches,  in  which  he  was  only  like  Thomas 
himself,  and  many  other  worthy  people,  both  Scotch  and 
English. 

"  A  stranger  sud  aye  be  welcomed  to  onybody's  hoose." 

"  I  didnaken  it  was  your  hoose." 

"  Ow  na.  It's  no  my  hoose.  It's  the  Lord's  hoose.  But 
a  smile  frae  the  servan'-lass  that  opens  the  door's  something 
till  a  man  that  gangs  to  ony  hoose  for  the  first  time,  ye  ken," 
returned  Thomas,  who,  like  many  men  of  rough  address,  was 
instantly  put  upon  his  good  behaviour  by  the  exhibition  of 
like  roughness  in  another. 

This  answer  disarmed  Cupples.  He  looked  up  into 
Thomas's  face,  and  saw  first  a  massive  chin ;  then  a  firmly 
closed  mouth ;  then  a  nose,  straight  as  a  Greek's,  but  bulky 
and  of  a  rough  texture ;  then  two  keen  grey  eyes,  and  lastly 
a  big  square  forehead  supported  by  the  two  pedestals  of  high 
cheek  bones — the  whole  looking  as  if  it  had  been  hewn  out 
of  his  professional  granite,  or  rather  as  if  the  look  of  the 
granite  had  passed  into  the  face  that  was  so  constantly  bent 
over  it  fashioning  the  stubborn  substance  to  the  yet  more 
stubborn  human  will.  And  Cupples  not  only  liked  the  face, 
but  felt  that  he  was  in  the  presence  of  one  of  the  higher  ua- 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  379 

tures  of  the  world — made  to  command,  or  rather,  which  is  far 
better,  to  influence.  Before  he  had  time  to  reply,  however, 
Thomas  resumed : 

"  Te  hae  had  a  heap  o'  tribble,  I  doobt,  wi'  that  laddie, 
Alec  Forbes." 

"  Naethiug  mair  nor  was  nateral,"  answered  Cupples. 

"  He's  a  fine  crater,  though.  I  ken  that  weel.  Is  he  come 
back,  do  ye  think  ?  " 

"  What  do  ye  mean  ?  He's  lyin'  in's  bed,  quaiet  eneuch, 
puir  fallow !  " 

"  Is  he  come  back  to  the  fold  ?  " 

"  Nae  to  the  missionars,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"  Dinna  anger  me.  Te're  nae  sae  ignorant  as  ye  wad  pass 
for.  Te  ken  weel  eneuch  what  I  mean.  What  care  I  for  the 
missionars  mair  nor  ony  ither  o'  the  Lord's  fowk,  'cep  that 
they're  mair  like  his  fowk  nor  ony  ither  that  I  hae  seen  ?  " 

"  Sic  like's  Eobert  Bruce,  for  a  sample." 

Thomas  stopped  as  if  he  had  struck  against  a  stone  wall, 
and  went  back  on  his  track. 

"  What  I  want  to  ken  is  whether  Alec  unnerstans  yet  that 
the  prodigal's  aye  ill  aff ;  and — " 

"  Na,"  interrupted  Cupples.  "He's  never  been  cawed  to 
the  swine  yet.  Nor  he  sudna  be,  sae  lang's  I  had  a  saxpence 
to  halve  wi'  him." 

"  Te're  no  richt,  frien',  tJiere.  The  suner  a  prodigal  comes 
to  the  swine  the  better  !  " 

"  Ay  ;  that's  what  you  richteous  elder  brithers  think.  I 
ken  that  weel  eneuch." 

"Mr  Cupples,  I'm  nae  elder  brither  i'  that  sense.  God 
kens  I  wad  gang  oot  to  lat  him  in." 

"  What  ken  ye  aboot  him,  gin  it  be  a  fair  queston  ?  " 

"  I  hae  kent  him,  sir,  sin  he  was  a  bairn.  I  perilled  his 
life — no  my  ain — to  gar  him  do  his  duty.  I  trust  in  God  it 
wad  hae  been  easier  for  me  to  hae  perilled  my  ain.  Sae  ye  see 
I  do  ken  aboot  him." 

"  Weel,"  said  Mr  Cupples,  to  whom  the  nature  of  Thomas 
had  begun  to  open  itself,  "  I  alloo  that.  Whaur  do  ye  bide  ? 
What's  yer  name  ?  I'll  come  and  see  ye  the  morn's  nicht,  gin 
ye'U  lat  me." 

"  My  name's  Thomas  Crann.  I'm  a  stonemason.  Speir  at 
Kobert  Bruce's  chop,  and  they'll  direc  ye  to  whaur  I  bide. 
Te  may  come  the  morn's  nicht,  and  welcome.  Can  ye  sup 
parritch  ?  " 

"  Ay,  weel  that." 

"  My  Jean's  an  extrornar  hau'  at  parritch.     I  only  houp 


380  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

puir  Esau  had  half  as  guid  for's  birthricht.  Te'll  hae  a  drappv 
wi  me  r 

"  Wi'  a'  my  hert,"  answered  Cupples. 

And  here  their  ways  diverged. 

AYhen  he  reached  home,  he  asked  Annie  about  Thomas. 
Annie  spoke  of  him  in  the  highest  terms,  adding, 

"  I'm  glaid  ye  like  him,  Mr  Cupples." 

"  I  dinna  think,  wi'  sic  an  opiugon  o'  'm,  it  can  maitter 
muekle  to  you  whether  I  like  him  or  no,"  returned  Mr  Cup- 
ples, looking  at  her  quizzically. 

"  Na,  nae  muekle  as  regairds  him.  But  it  says  weel  for 
you,  ye  ken,  Mr  Cupples,"  replied  Annie  archly. 

Mr  Cupples  laughed  good-humouredly,  and  said, 

"  "Weel,  I  s'  gang  and  see  him  the  morn's  nicht,  ony  gait." 

And  so  he  did.  And  the  porridge  and  the  milk  were  both 
good. 

"  This  is  heumble  fare,  Mr  Cupples,"  said  Thomas. 

"  It  maitters  little  compairateevely  what  a  man  lives  upo'," 
said  Cupples  sententiously,  "  sae  it  be  first-rate  o'  'ts  ain 
kin'.  '"And  this  is  first-rate." 

"  Tak'  a  drappy  mair,  sir." 

"  Na,  nae  mair,  I  thank  ye." 

"  They'll  be  left,  gin  ye  dinna." 

"  Weel,  sen'  them  ower  to  INIr  Bruce,"  said  Cupples,  with 
a  sly  wink.  "  I  s'  wai-ran'  he'll  coup  them  ower  afore  they  sud 
be  wastit.     He  canna  bide  waste." 

"  "Weel,  that's  a  vertue.  The  Saviour  himsel'  garred  them 
gaither  up  the  fragments." 

"  Nae  doobt.  But  I'm  feared  Bruce  wad  hae  coontit  the 
waste  by  boo  mony  o'  the  baskets  gaed  by  his  door.  I'm  sur- 
prised at  ye,  Mr  Crann,  tryin'  to  defen'  sic  a  meeserable  crater, 
jist  'cause  he  gangs  to  your  kirk." 

"  Weel,  he  is  a  meeserable  crater,  and  I  canna  bide  him. 
He's  jist  a  Jonah  in  oor  ship,  an  Achan  in  oor  camp.  But  I 
sudna  speyk  sae  to  ane  that's  no  a  member." 

"  Never  ye  min'.  I'm  auld  eneuch  to  hae  learned  to  liaud 
my  tongue.  But  we'll  turn  till  a  better  subjec'  Jist  tell  nie 
hoo  ye  made  Alec  peril's  life  for  conscience  sake.  Te  dinna 
burn  fowk  here  for  nae  freely  haudin'  by  the  shorter  Carritchis, 
do  ye  ?  " 

And  hereupon  followed  the  story  of  the  flood. 

Both  these  men,  notwithstanding  the  defiance  they  bore  on 
their  shields,  were  of  the  most  friendly  and  communicative  dis- 
position. So  soon  as  they  saw  that  a  neighbour  was  trust- 
worthy, they  trusted  him.     Hence  it  is  not  marvellous  tliat 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  381 

communication  should  have  been  mutual.  Cupples  told  Thomas 
in  return  how  he  had  come  to  know  Alec,  and  what  compact 
had  arisen  between  them.  Thomas,  as  soon  as  he  understood 
Mr  Cupples's  sacrifice,  caught  the  delicate  hand  in  his  granite 
grasp — like  that  with  which  the  steel  anvil  and  the  stone  block 
held  Arthur's  sword — and  said  solemnly, 

"  Te  hae  done  a  great  deed,  which  winna  gang  wantin'  its 
reward.  It  canna  hae  merit,  but  it  maun  be  pleesant  in  Plis 
sicht.  Te  hae  baith  conquered  sin  i'  yersel,  and  ye  hae  turned 
the  siuner  frae  the  error  o'  his  ways." 

"  Hoots  !"  interrupted  Cupples,  "  do  ye  think  I  was  gaun  to 
lat  the  laddie  gang  reid-wud  to  the  deevil,  ohn  stud  in  afore  'm 
and  cried  Hooly  !  " 

After  this  the  two  were  friends,  and  met  often.  Cupples 
went  to  the  missionars  again  and  again,  and  they  generally 
walked  away  together. 

"  What  gart  ye  turn  frae  the  kirk  o'  yer  fathers,  and  tak  to 
a  conventicle  like  that,  Thomas  ? "  asked  Mr  Cupples  one 
evening. 

"  Ye  hae  been  to  them  baith,  and  I  wad  hae  thocht  ye  wad 
hae  kent  better  nor  to  speir  sic  a  question,"  answered  Thomas. 

"  Ay,  ay.     But  what  gart  ye  think  o'  't  first  ?  " 

"  Weel,  I'll  tell  ye  the  haill  story.  Whan  I  was  a  callan,  I 
took  the  play  to  mysel'  for  a  week,  or  maybe  twa,  and  gaed  wi' 
a  frien'  i'  the  same  trade's  mysel',  to  see  what  was  to  be  seen 
alang  a  screed  o'  the  sea-coast,  frae  toon  to  toon.  My  com- 
paingon  wasna  that  gude  at  the  traivellin' ;  and  upo'  the  Set- 
terday  nicht,  there  we  war  in  a  public-hoose,  and  him  no 
able  to  gang  ae  fit  further,  for  sair  heels  and  taes.  Sae  we  bude 
to  bide  still  ower  the  Sawbath,  thougli  we  wad  fain  hae  been 
oof  o'  the  toon  afore  the  kirk  began.  But  seein'  that  we 
cudna,  I  thocht  it  wad  be  but  dacent  to  gang  to  the  kirk  like 
ither  fowk,  and  sae  I  made  mysel'  as  snod  as  I  could,  and  gaed 
oot.  And  afore  I  had  gane  mony  yairds,  I  cam  upo'  fowk 
gaein  to  the  kirk.  And  sae  I  loot  the  stream  carry  me  alang 
wi'  't,  and  gaed  in  and  sat  doon,  tliough  the  place  wasna  exackly 
like  a  kirk  a'thegither.  But  the  minister  had  a  gift  o'  prayer 
and  o'  preaching  as  weel ;  and  the  fowk  a'  sang  as  gin't  was 
pairt  o'  their  business  to  praise  God,  for  fear  he  wad  tak  it  frae 
them  and  gie't  to  the  stanes.  AVhan  I  cam  oot,  and  was  gaein 
quaietly  back  to  the  public,  there  cam  first  ae  sober-luikin  man 
up  to  me,  and  he  wad  hae  me  hame  to  my  denner ;  and  syne 
their  cam  an  auld  man,  and  efter  that  a  man  that  luikit  like  a 
sutor,  and  ane  and  a'  o'  them  wad  hae  me  hame  to  my  denner 
wi'  them — for  no  airthly  rizzon  but  that  I  was  a  stranger.  But 


382  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

ye  see  I  cudna  gang  'cause  my  frien'  was  waitin'  for  his  till  I 
gaed  back.  Efter  denner,  I  speirt  at  the  landlady  gin  she  cud 
tell  me  what  they  ca'd  themsels,  the  fowk  'at  gathered  i'  that 
pairt  o'  the  toon  ;  and  says  she,  '  I  dinna  ken  what  they  ca' 
them — they're  nae  customers  o'  mine  —  but  I  jist  ken  this, 
they're  hard-workin'  fowk,  kind  to  ane  anither.  A'body  trusts 
their  word.  Grif  ony  o'  them  be  sick,  the  rest  luiks  efter  them 
till  they're  better ;  and  gin  ony  o'  them  happens  to  gang  the 
wrang  gait,  there's  aye  three  or  four  o'  them  aboot  him,  till 
they  get  him  set  richt  again.'  '  Weel,'  says  I,  '  I  dinna  care 
what  they  ca'  them  ;  but  gin  ever  I  jine  ony  kirk,  that  s'  be  the 
kirk.'  Sae,  efter  that,  whan  ance  I  had  gotten  a  sure  houp,  a 
rael  grun'  for  believin'  that  I  was  ane  o'  the  called  and  chosen, 
I  jist  jined  mysel'  to  them  that  sud  be  like  them — for  they  ca'd 
them  a'  Missionars." 

"  Is  that  lang  sin  syne  ?  " 

"Ay,  it's  twenty  year  noo." 

"  I  thocht  as  muckle.  I  doobt  they  hae  fared  like  maist  o' 
the  new  fashions." 

"  Hoo  that  ?  " 

"  Grown  some  auld  themsel's.  There's  a  feow  signs  o' 
decrepitude,  no  to  say  degeneracy,  amo'  ye,  isna  there  ?  " 

"  I  maun  alloo  that.  At  the  first,  things  has  a  kin'  o'  a 
swing  that  carries  them  on.  But  the  sons  an'  the  dochters 
dinna  care  sae  muckle  aboot  them  as  the  fathers  and  mithers. 
Maybe  they  haena  come  throw  the  hards  like  them." 

"  And  syne  there'll  be  ane  or  twa  cruppen  in  like  that 
chosen  vessel  o'  grace  they  ca'  Robert  Bruce.  I'm  sure  he's 
eneuch  to  ruin  ye  i'  the  sicht  o'  the  warl',  hooever  you  and 
he  may  fare  at  heid-quarters,  bein'  a'  called  and  chosen  the- 
gither." 

"  For  God's  sake,  dinna  think  that  sic  as  him  gies  ony 
token  o'  being  ane  o'  the  elec." 

"  Hoo  wan  he  in  than  ?  They  say  ye're  unco'  particular. 
The  Elec  sud  ken  an  elec." 

"  It's  the  siller,  man,  that  blin's  the  een  o'  them  that  hae 
to  sit  in  jeedgment  upo'  the  applicants.  The  crater  professed, 
and  they  war  jist  ower  willin'  to  believe  him." 

"  Weel,  gin  that  be  the  case,  I  dinna  see  that  ye're  sae  far 
aheid  o'  fowk  that  disna  mak'  sae  mony  pretensions." 

"  Indeed,  Mr  Cupples,  I  fully  doobt  that  the  displeesur  o* 
the  Almichty  is  restin'  upo'  oor  kirk  ;  and  Mr  TurnbuU,  honest 
man,  appears  to  feel  the  wacht  o'  't.  We  hae  mair  than  ae 
instance  i'  the  Scriptur  o'  a  haill  community  sufferin'  for  the 
sin  o'  ane," 


ALEC    FORBES     OF    HOWGLEX.  383 

"  Do  ye  ken  onj  instance  o'  a  gude  man  no  bein'  able  to 
win  in  to  your  set?" 

"  Ay,  ane,  I  think.  There  was  a  fule  body  that  wantit  sair 
to  sit  doon  wi'  's.  But  what  cud  we  do  ?  We  cudna  ken 
whether  he  had  savin'  grace  or  no,  for  the  body  cudna  speyk 
that  a  body  cud  unnerstan'  him  ?  " 

"  And  ye  didna  lat  him  sit  doon  wi'  ye  ?  " 

"Na.     Hoocudwe?" 

"  The  Lord  didna  dee  for  him,  did  he  ?  " 

"  "We  cudna  tell." 

"  And  what  did  the  puir  cratur  do  ?  " 

"Hegrat"  (wept). 

"  And  hoo  cam'  ye  to  see  that  ye  wad  hae  been  a'  the  better 
o'  a  wee  mair  pooer  to  read  the  heart  ?  " 

"  Whan  the  cratur  was  deein',  the  string  o'  his  tongue, 
whether  that  string  lay  in  his  mou',  or  in  his  brain,  was 
iousened,  and  he  spak'  plain,  and  he  pi'aised  God." 

"  Weel,  I  cannot  see  that  your  plan,  haudin'  oot  innocents 
that  lo'e  Him,  and  lattin  in  thieves  that  wad  steal  oot  o'  the 
Lord  s  ain  bag — gie  them  a  chance — can  be  an  impruvment 
upo'  the  auld  fashion  o'  settin'  a  man  to  judge  himsel',  and  tak 
the  wyte  o'  the  jeedgment  upo'  's  ain  shouthers." 


CHAPTEE  LXXXI. 


Annie  began  to  perceive  that  it  was  time  for  her  to  go, 
partly  from  the  fact  that  she  was  no  longer  wanted  so  much, 
and  partly  from  finding  in  herself  certain  conditions  of  feeling 
which  she  did  not  know  what  to  do  with. 

"  Annie's  coming  back  to  you  in  a  day  or  two,  Mr  Bruce," 
said  Mrs  Forbes,  having  called  to  pay  some  of  her  interest,  and 
wishing  to  prepare  the  way  for  her  return.  "  She  has  been 
with  me  a  long  time,  but  you  know  she  was  ill,  and  I  could 
not  part  with  her  besides." 

"Weel,  mem,"  answered  Bruce,  "we'll  be  verra  happy  to 
tak'  her  hame  again,  as  sune's  ye  hae  had  a'  the  use  ye  want 
o'  her." 

He  had  never  assumed  this  tone  before,  either  to  Mrs 
Forbes  or  with  regard  to  Annie.     But  she  took  no  notice  of  it. 

Both  Mr  and  Mrs  Bruce  received  the  girl  so  kindly  that  she 
did  not  know  what  to  make  of  it.     Mr  Bruce  especially  was 


384  ALEG    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX, 

all  sugar  and  butter — rancid  butter  of  course.  "When  she  went 
up  to  her  old  rat-haunted  room,  her  astonishment  was  doubled. 
For  the  holes  in  floor  and  roof  had  been  mended  ;  the  sky-light 
was  as  clean  as  glass  a  hundred  years  old  could  be ;  a  square 
of  carpet  lay  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  ;  and  cheque-curtains 
adorned  the  bed.  She  concluded  that  these  luxuries  had  been 
procured  for  Mr  Cupples,  but  could  not  understand  how  they 
came  to  be  left  for  her. 

Nor  did  the  consideration  shown  her  decrease  after  the  first 
novelty  of  her  return  had  worn  ofi" ;  and  altogether  the  main 
sources  of  her  former  discomfort  had  ceased  to  flow.  The  baby 
had  become  a  sweet-tempered  little  girl ;  Johnnie  was  at  school 
all  day  ;  and  Robert  was  a  comparatively  w'ell-behaved,  though 
still  sulky  youth.  He  gave  himself  great  airs  to  his  former 
companions,  but  to  Annie  he  was  condescending.  He  was  a 
good  student,  and  had  the  use  of  tJw  room  for  a  study. 

Robert  Bruce  the  elder  had  disclosed  his  projects  to  his 
heir,  and  he  had  naturally  declined  all  efibrt  for  their  realiza- 
tion. But  he  began  at  length  to  observe  that  Annie  had  grown 
very  pretty  ;  and  then  he  thought  it  would  be  a  nice  thing  to 
fall  in  love  with  her,  since,  from  his  parents'  wishes  to  that  end, 
she  must  have  some  money.  Annie,  however,  did  not  suspect 
anything,  till,  one  day,  she  overheard  the  elder  say  to  the 
younger, 

"  Ye  dinna  push,  man.  Gang  benn  to  the  chop  and  get  a 
cnottie  o'  reid  candy-sugar,  and  gie  her  that  the  neist  time  ye 
see  her  her  lane.  The  likes  o'  her  kens  what  that  means.  And 
gin  she  tak's  't  frae  ye,  ye  may  hae  the  run  o'  the  drawer.  It's 
worth  while,  ye  ken.     Them  'at  winna  saw  winna  reap." 

From  that  moment  she  was  on  her  guard.  Nor  did  she 
give  the  youth  a  chance  of  putting  his  father's  advice  into  oper- 
ation. 

Meantime  Alec  got  better  and  better,  went  out  with  Mr 
Cupples  in  the  gig,  ate  like  an  ogre,  drank  like  a  hippopota- 
mus, and  was  rapidly  recovering  his  former  strength.  As  he 
grew  better,  his  former  grief  did  draw^  nearer,  but  such  was 
the  freshness  of  his  new  life,  that  he  seemed  to  have  died  and 
risen  again  like  Lazarus,  leaving  his  sorrow  behind  him  in  the 
grave,  to  be  communed  with  only  in  those  dim  seasons  when 
ghosts  walk. 

One  evening  over  their  supper,  he  was  opposing  Mr  Cup- 
ples's  departure  for  the  twentieth  time.  At  length  the  latter 
said: 

"  Alec,  I'll  bide  wi'  ye  till  the  neist  session  upon  ae  con- 
dition." 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  385 

"  What  is  tliat,  Mr  Cupples  ?  "  said  Mrs  Forbes.  "  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  know  it." 

"  Ye  see,  mem,  this  young  rascal  here  made  a  fule  o'  'msel' 
last  session  and  didna  pass;  and — " 

•*  Let  bygones  be  bygones,  if  you  please,  Mr  Cupples,"  said 
Mrs  Forbes  pleasantly. 

"  'Deed  no,  mem.  What's  the  use  o'  bygaues  but  to  learn 
'frae  them  hoo  to  meet  the  bycomes  ?  Ye'll  please  to  hear  me 
oot ;  and  gin  Alec  doesna  like  to  hear  me,  he  maun  jist  sit  and 
hear  me." 

"  Fire  away,  Mr  Cupples,"  said  Alec. 

"  1  will. — For  them  that  didna  pass  i'  the  en'  o'  the  last 
session,  there's  an  examination  i'  the  beginnin'  o'  the  neist — 
gin  they  like  to  stan'  't.  Gin  they  dinna,  they  maun  gang 
throu  the  same  classes  ower  again,  and  stan'  the  examination 
at  the  end — that  is,  gin  they  want  a  degree ;  and  that's  a  ter- 
rible loss  o'  time  for  the  start.  Noo,  gin  Alec'll  set  to  wark 
like  a  man,  I  '11  help  him  a'  that  I  can  ;  and  by  the  gatherin' 
again,  he  '11  be  up  wi'  the  lave  o'  the  fleet.  Faith  !  I  '11  sit  like 
Deith  i'  the  spectre-bark,  and  blaw  intil  his  sails  a'  that  I  can 
blaw.  Maybe  ye  dinna  ken  that  verse  i'  Tlie  Mhyme  o'  the  An- 
cient Mariner  ^     It  was  left  oot  o'  the  later  editions  :    - 

'  A  gust  of  wind  sterte  up  behind, 
And  whistled  through  his  bones  ; 

Through  the  holes  of  his  eyes  and  the  hole  of  his  mouth, 
Half-whistles  and  half-groans.' 

There  !  that's  spicy-— for  them  'at  likes  ghaistry." 

That  very  day  Alec  resumed.  Mr  Cupples  would  not  let 
him  work  a  moment  after  he  began  to  show  symptoms  of 
fatigue.  But  the  limit  was  moved  further  and  further  every 
day,  till  at  length  he  could  work  four  hours.  His  tutor  would 
not  hear  of  any  further  extension,  and  declared  he  would  pass 
triumphantly. 

The  rest  of  the  summer-day  they  spent  in  wandering  about, 
or  lying  in  the  grass,  for  it  was  a  hot  and  dry  summer,  so  that 
the  grass  was  a  very  bed  of  health.  Then  came  all  the  pleasures 
of  the  harvest.  And  when  the  evenings  grew  cool,  there  were 
the  books  that  Mr  Cupples  foraged  for  in  Glamerton,  seeming 
to  find  them  by  the  scent. 

And  Mr  Cupples  tried  to  lead  Alec  into  philosophical  ways 
of  regarding  things;  for  he  had  just  enough  of  religion  to 
get  some  good  of  philosophy — which  itself  is  the  religion  of 
skeletons. 

"  Ye  see,"  he  would  say,  "  it's  pairt  o'  the  machine.  What 
a  body  has  to  do  is  to  learn  what  pinion  or  steam-box,  or 

25 


386  ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

piston,  or  muckle  water-wheel  lie  represents,  and  stick  to  that, 
defyin'  the  deevil,  whase  wark  is  to  put  the  machine  oot  o' 
gear.  And  sae  he  maun  grin'  awa',  and  whan  Deith  comes, 
he'll  say,  as  Andrew  Wylie  did — '  Weel  run,  little  wheelie ! '  and 
tak'  him  awa'  wi'  him  some  gait  or  ither,  whaur,  maybe,  he  may 
mak'  choice  o'  his  ain  machine  for  the  neist  trial." 

"That's  some  cauld  doctrine,  Mr  Cupples,"  Alec  would 
say. 

"  "Weel,"  he  would  return  with  a  smile,  "  gang  to  yer  frien' 
Thamas  Crann,  and  he'll  gie  ye  something  a  hantle  better. 
That's  ane  o'  the  maist  extrornar  men  I  ever  made  acquantance 
wi'.  He'll  gie  ye  divine  philosophy — a  dooms  sicht  better  nor 
mine.     But,  eh !  he's  saft  for  a'  that." 

Annie  would  have  got  more  good  from  these  readings  than 
either  of  them.  Mr  Cupples  was  puzzled  to  account  for  her 
absence,  but  came  to  see  into  the  mother's  defensive  strategy, 
who  had  not  yet  learned  to  leave  such  things  to  ttiemselves  ; 
though  she  might  have  known  by  this  time  that  the  bubbles 
of  scheming  mothers,  positive  or  negative,  however  well-blown, 
are  in  danger  of  collapsing  into  a  drop  of  burning  poison.  He 
missed  Annie  very  much,  and  went  often  to  see  her,  taking  her 
what  books  he  could.  With  one  or  other  of  these  she  would 
wander  along  the  banks  of  the  clear  brown  Glamour,  now 
watching  it  as  it  subdued  its  rocks  or  lay  asleep  in  its  shadowy 
pools,  now  reading  a  page  or  two,  or  now  seating  herself  on 
the  grass,  and  letting  the  dove  of  peace  fold  its  wings  upon  her 
bosom.  Even  her  new  love  did  not  more  than  occasionally 
ruffle  the  flow  of  her  inward  river.  She  had  long  cherished  a 
deeper  love,  which  kept  it  very  calm.  Her  stillness  was  always 
wandering  into  prayer ;  but  never  did  she  ofter  a  petition  that 
associated  Alec's  fate  with  her  own ;  though  sometimes  she 
would  find  herself  holding  up  her  heart  like  an  empty  cup 
which  knew  that  it  was  empty.  She  missed  Tibbie  Dyster 
dreadfully. 

One  day,  thinking  she  heard  Mr  Cupples  come  upstairs, 
she  ran  down  with  a  smile  on  her  face,  which  fell  oS"  it  like  a 
withered  leaf  when  she  saw  no  one  there  but  Kobert  the  student. 
He,  taking  the  smile  for  himself,  rose  and  approached  her  with 
an  ugly  response  on  his  heavy  countenance.  She  turned  and 
flew  up  again  to  her  room  ;  whither  to  her  horror  he  followed 
her,  demanding  a  kiss.  An  ordinary  Scotch  maiden  of  Annie's 
rank  would  have  answered  such  a  request  from  a  man  she  did 
not  like  with  a  box  on  the  ear,  tolerabl}^  delivered ;  but  Annie 
was  too  proud  even  to  struggle,  and  submitted  like  a  marble 
statue,  except  that  she  could  not  help  wiping  her  lips  after  the 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  387 

salute.     Tlie  youth  walked  away  more  discomfited  than  if  she 
had  made  angry  protestations,  and  a  successful  resistance. 

Annie  sat  down  and  cried.  Her  former  condition  in  the 
house  was  enviable  to  this. — -That  same  evening,  without  say- 
ing a  word  to  any  one,  for  there  was  a  curious  admixture  of 
outward  lawlessness  with  the  perfect  inward  obedience  of  the 
girl,  she  set  out  for  Clippenstrae,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
AVan  Water.  It  was  a  gorgeous  evening.  The  sun  was  going 
down  in  purple  and  crimson,  divided  by  such  bars  of  gold  as 
never  grew  in  the  mines  of  Ophir.  A  faint  rosy  mist  hung  its 
veil  over  the  hills  about  the  sunset ;  and  a  torrent  of  red  light 
streamed  down  the  westward  road  by  which  she  went.  The 
air  was  soft,  and  the  light  sobered  with  a  sense  of  the  coming 
t'\\"ilight.  It  was  such  an  evening  as  we  have,  done  into  Eng- 
lish, in  the  ninth  Evening  Voluntary  of  Wordsworth.  And 
Annie  felt  it  such.  Thank  God,  is  does  not  need  a  poetic  edu- 
cation to  feel  such  things.  It  needs  a  poetic  education  to  say 
such  things  so,  that  another,  not  seeing,  yet  shall  see  ;  but  that 
such  a  child  as  Annie  should  not  be  able  to  feel  them,  would 
be  the  one  argument  to  destroy  our  belief  in  the  genuineness 
of  the  poet's  vision.  For  if  so,  can  the  vision  have  come  from 
Kature's  self?  Has  it  not  rather  been  evoked  by  the  magic 
rod  of  the  poet's  will  from  his  own  chambers  of  imagery  ? 


CHAPTER  LXXXII. 


When  she  reached  Clippenstrae,  she  found  that  she  had 
been  sent  there.  Her  aunt  came  from  the  inner  room  as  she 
opened  the  door,  and  she  knew  at  once  by  her  face  that  Death 
was  in  the  house.  Eor  its  expression  recalled  the  sad  vision  of 
her  father's  departure.  Her  great-uncle,  the  little  grey-headed 
old  cottar  in  the  Highland  bonnet,  lay  dying — in  the  Highland 
bonnet  still.  He  was  going  to  "  the  land  o'  the  Leal  "  {Joi/al), 
the  true-hearted,  to  wait  for  his  wife,  whose  rheumatism  was 
no  chariot  of  fire  for  swiftness,  whatever  it  might  be  for  pain, 
to  bear  her  to  the  "  high  countries."  He  has  had  nothing  to 
do  with  our  story,  save  that  once  he  made  our  Annie  feel  that 
she  had  a  home.  And  to  give  that  feeling  to  another  is  worth 
living  for,  and  justifies  a  place  in  any  story  like  mine. 

Auntie  Meg's  grief  appeared  chiefly  in  her  nose  ;  but  it  was 
none  the  less  genuine  for  that,  for  her  nature  was  chiefly  nose. 


388  ALEO   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN. 

She  led  the  way  into  the  death-room — it  could  hardly  be  called 
the  sick-room — and  Annie  followed.  By  the  bedside  sat,  in  a 
higli-backed  chair,  an  old  woman  with  more  wrinkles  in  her 
face  than  moons  in  her  life.  She  was  perfectly  calm,  and  looked 
like  one,  already  half-across  the  river,  watching  her  friend  as 
he  passed  her  towards  the  opposing  bank.  The  old  man  lay 
with  his  eyes  closed.  As  soon  as  he  knew  that  he  was  dying 
he  had  closed  his  eyes,  that  the  dead  orbs  might  not  stare  into 
the  faces  of  the  living.  It  had  been  a  whim  of  his  for  years. 
He  would  leave  the  house  decent  when  his  lease  was  up.  And 
the  will  kept  pressing  down  the  lids  which  it  would  soon  have 
no  power  to  lift. 

"  Te're  come  in  time,"  said  Auntie  Meg,  and  whispered  to 
the  old  woman — "  My  brither  Jeames's  bairn." 

"  Ay,  ye're  come  in  time,  lassie,"  said  the  great-aunt  kindly, 
and  said  no  more. 

The  dying  man  heard  the  words,  opened  his  eyes,  glanced 
once  at  Annie,  and  closed  them  again. 

"Is  that  ane  o'  the  angels  come?"  he  asked,  for  his  wits 
were  gone  a  little  way  before. 

"  Na,  weel  I  wat !"  said  the  hard-mouthed  ungracious  Meg. 
"  It's  Annie  Anderson,  Jeames  Anderson's  lass." 

The  old  man  put  his  hand  feebly  from  under  the  bed-clothes. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  ye,  dawtie,"  he  said,  still  without  opening 
his  eyes.     "  I  aye  wantit  to  see  mair  o'  ye,  for  ye're  jist  sic 
a  bairn  as  I  wad  hae  likit  to  hae  mj^sel'  gin  it  had  pleased  the 
Lord.     Te're  a  douce,  God-fearin'  lassie,  and  He'll  tak  care  o'  y^^ 
his  ain." 

Here  his  mind  began  to  wander  again. 

"  Marget,"  he  said,  "  is  my  een  steekit,  for  I  think  I  see 
angels  ?" 

"  Ay  are  they — close  eneuch." 

"  Weel,  that's  verra  weel.     I  '11  hae  a  sleep  noo." 

He  was  silent  for  some  time.  Then  he  reverted  to  the 
fancy  that  Annie  was  the  first  of  the  angels  come  to  carry  away 
his  soul,  and  murmured  brokenly  : 

"  Whan  ye  tak'  it  up,  be  carefu'  boo  ye  han'le  't,  baith  for 
it's  some  weyk,  and  for  it's  no  ower  clean,  and  micht  blaud  the 
bonnie  white  ban's  o'  sic  God-servers  as  yersels.  I  ken  mysel 
tliere's  ae  spot  ower  the  hert  o'  't,  whilk  cam  o'  an  ill  word  I 
gied  a  bairn  for  stealin'  a  neep.  But  they  did  steal  a  hantle 
that  year.  And  there's  anither  spot  upo'  the  richt  ban',  whilk 
cam  o'  ower  gude  a  bargain  I  made  wi'  auld  John  Thamson  at 
Glass  fair.  And  it  wad  never  come  oot  wi'  a'  tlie  soap  and  water 
— Hoots,  I'm  haverin' !      It's  upo'  the  ban'  o'  my  soul,  whaur 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  389 

soap  and  water  can  never  come.  Lord,  dight  it  clean,  and  I'll 
gie  him  't  a'  back  whan  I  see  him  iu  thy  kingdom.  And  I'll 
beg  his  pardon  forbye.  But  I  didna  chait  him  a'thegither.  I 
only  tuik  mair  nor  I  wad  hae  gi'en  for  the  colt  mysel'.  And 
min'  ye  diuna  lat  me  fa',  gaeiu'  throu  the  lift." 

He  went  on  thus,  with  wandering  thoughts  that  in  their 
wildest  vagaries  were  yet  tending  homeward ;  and  which  when 
least  soimd,  were  vet  busy  with  the  wisest  of  mortal  business — 
repentance.  By  degrees  he  fell  into  a  slumber,  and  from  that, 
about  midnight,  into  a  deeper  sleep. 

The  next  morning,  Annie  went  out.  She  could  not  feel 
oppressed  or  sorrowful  at  such  a  death,  and  she  would  walk  up 
the  river  to  the  churchyard  where  her  father  lay.  The  Wan 
Water  was  shallow,  and  therefore  full  of  talk  about  all  the 
things  that  were  deep  secrets  when  its  bosom  was  full.  Along 
great  portions  of  its  channel,  the  dry  stones  lay  like  a  sea- 
beach.  They  had  been  swept  from  the  hills  in  the  torrents  of 
its  autumnal  fury.  The  fish  did  not  rise,  for  the  heat  made 
them  languid.  JS^o  trees  sheltered  them  from  the  rays  of  the 
sun.  Both  above  and  below,  the  banks  were  rugged,  and  the 
torrent  strong  ;  but  at  this  part  the  stream  flowed  through 
level  fields.  Here  and  there  a  large  piece  had  cracked  off  and 
fallen  from  the  bank,  to  be  swept  away  in  the  next  flood  ;  but 
meantime  the  grass  was  growing  on  it,  greener  than  anywhere 
else.  The  corn  would  come  close  to  the  water's  edge  and 
again  sweep  away  to  make  room  for  cattle  and  sheep  ;  and  here 
and  there  a  field  of  red  clover  lay  wavering  between  shadow 
and  shine.  She  went  up  a  long  way,  and  then  crossing  some 
fields,  came  to  the  churchyard.  She  did  not  know  her  father's 
grave,  for  no  stone  marked  the  spot  where  he  sank  in  this 
broken  earthy  sea.  There  was  no  church  :  its  memory  even 
had  vanished.  It  seemed  as  if  the  churchyard  had  swallowed 
the  church  as  the  heavenly  light  shall  one  day  swallow  the  sun 
and  the  moon  ;  and  the  lake  of  divine  fire  shall  swallow  death 
and  hell.  She  lingered  a  little,  and  then  set  out  on  her  slow 
return,  often  sitting  down  on  the  pebbles,  sea-worn  ages  before 
the  young  river  had  begun  to  play  with  them. 

Eesting  thus  about  half  way  home,  she  sang  a  song  which 
she  had  found  in  her  father's  old  song-book.  She  had  said  it 
once  to  Alec  and  Curly,  but  they  did  not  care  much  for  it,  and 
she  had  not  thought  of  it  again  till  now. 

"  Ane  by  anc  they  gang  awa'. 
The  gatherer  gathers  great  an'  sma'. 
Ane  by  ane  maks  ane  an'  a'. 


390  ALEC    FORBKS   OF    HOWGLEN. 

Aye  whan  ane  is  ta'en  frae  ane, 
Aiie  on  earth  is  left  alane, 
Twa  in  heaven  are  knit  again. 

WTian  God's  hairst  is  in  or  lang, 
Golden-heidit,  ripe,  and  thrang, 
Syne  begins  a  better  sang." 

She  looked  up,  and  Curly  was  walking  through  the  broad 
river  to  where  she  sat. 

"  I  kent  ye  a  mile  aff,  Annie,"  he  said. 

"I'm  glaid  to  see  ye,  Curly." 

"  I  wonner  gin  ye'll  be  as  glaid  to  see  me  the  neist  time, 
Annie." 

Then  Annie  perceived  that  Curly  looked  earnest  and 
anxious. 

"  What  do  ye  say,  Curly  ?  "  she  returned. 

"  1  hardly  ken  what  I  say,  Annie,  though  I  ken  what  I 
mean.  And  I  dinna  ken  what  I'm  gaun  to  say  neist,  but  they 
say  the  trowth  will  oot.     I  wiss  it  wad,  ohn  a  body  said  it." 

"  What  can  be  the  maitter,  Curly  ?  "—Annie  was  getting 
frightened. — "It  maun  be  ill  news,  or  ye  wadna  luik  like 
that." 

"  I  doobt  it'll  be  warst  news  to  them  that  it's  nae  news 
till." 

"  Te  speyk  in  riddles,  Curly." 

He  tried  to  laugh  but  succeeded  badly,  and  stood  before 
her,  with  downcast  eyes,  poking  his  thorn-stick  into  the  mass 
of  pebbles.  Annie  waited  in  silence,  and  that  brought  it  out 
at  last. 

"  Annie,  when  we  war  at  the  schule  thegither,  I  wad  hae 
gien  ye  onything.  Noo  I  hae  gien  ye  a'  thing,  and  my  hert  to 
the  beet  (boot)  o'  the  bargain." 

"  Curly  !  "  said  Annie,  and  said  no  more,  for  she  felt  as  if 
her  heart  would  break. 

"  I  likit  ye  at  the  schule,  Annie  ;  but  noo  there's  naething 
i'  the  warl  but  you." 

Annie  rose  gently,  came  close  to  him,  and  laying  a  hand  on 
his  arm,  said, 

"  I'm  richt  sorry  for  ye,  Curly." 

He  half  turned  his  back,  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then 
said  coldly,  but  in  a  trembling  voice, 

"  Dinna  distress  yersel'.      We  canna  help  it." 
"  But  what'll  ye  "do.  Curly  ?  "  asked  Annie  in  a  tone  full 
of  compassionate  loving-kindness,  and  with  her  hand  still  on 
his  arm.     "  It's  sair  to  bide." 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX.  391 

"  Grude  kens  that. — I  maun  jist  warstle  throu'  't  like  mony 
anitber.  I'll  awa'  back  to  the  pig-skin  saiddle  I  was  workin' 
at,"  said  Curly,  with  a  smile  at  the  bitterness  of  his  fate. 

"  It's  no  that  I  dinna  like  ye,  Curly.  Te  ken  that.  I 
■wad  do  onything  for  ye  that  I  cud  do.  Te  hae  been  a  gude 
frien'  to  me." 

And  here  Annie  burst  out  crying. 

"  Dinna  greit.  The  Lord  preserve's !  dinna  greit.  I 
winna  say  anither  word  aboot  it.  What's  Curly  that  sic  a  ane 
as  you  sud  greit  for  him  ?  Faith !  it's  nearhan'  as  guid  as  gin 
ye  lo'ed  me.  I'm  as  prood's  a  turkey-cock,"  averred  Curly  in 
a  voice  ready  to  break  with  emotion  of  a  very  different  sort 
from  pride. 

"  It's  a  sair  thing  that  things  winna  gang  richt ! "  said 
Annie  at  last,  after  many  vain  attempts  to  stop  the  fountain  by 
drying  the  stream  of  her  tears. — I  believe  they  were  the  first 
words  of  complaint  upon  things  in  general  that  she  ever  uttered. 

"  Is't  my  wyte.  Curly  ?  "  she  added, 

"  Deil  a  bit  o'  't !  "  cried  Curly.  "  And  I  beg  yer  pardon 
for  sweirin'.  Tour  wyte  !  I  was  aye  a  fule.  But  maybe,"  he 
added,  brightening  a  little,  "  I  micht  hae  a  chance — some  day 
— some  day  far  awa',  ye  ken,  Annie  ?  " 

"  Na,  na,  Curly.  Dinna  think  o'  't.  There's  no  chance 
for  ye,  dear  Curly." 

His  face  flushed  red  as  a  peony. 

"  That  lick-the-dirt  's  no  gaun  to  gar  ye  marry  the  coUi- 
giner  ?  " 

"  Dinna  ye  be  feared  that  I'll  marry  onybody  I  dinna  like, 
Curly." 

"  Te  dinna  like  him,  I  houp  to  God  I " 

"  I  canna  bide  him." 

"  Weel,  maybe — AVha  kens  ?     I  daiirna  despair." 

"  Curly,  Curly,  I  maun  be  honest  wi'  you,  as  ye  hae  been 
wi'  me.  Whan  ance  a  body's  seen  ane,  they  canna  see  anither, 
ye  ken.  Wha  cud  hae  been  at  the  schule  as  I  was  sae  lang, 
and  syne  taen  oot  o'  the  water,  ye  ken,  and  syne —  ?  " 

Annie  stopped. 

"  Gin  ye  mean  Alec  Forbes — "  said  Curly,  and  stopped  too. 
But  presently  he  went  on  again — "  Gin  I  war  to  come  atween 
Alec  Forbes  and  you,  hangin'  wad  be  ower  gude  for  me.  But 
has  Alec — " 

"  Na,  nae  a  word.  But  haud  yer  tongue,  Curly.  Ance  is 
a'  wi'  me. — It's  nae  mony  lasses  wad  hae  tell't  ye  sic  a  thing. 
But  I  ken  it's  richt.  Te're  the  only  ane  that  has  my  secret. 
Keep  it,  Curly." 


392  ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN. 

"  Like  Deith  himsel',"  said  Curly.     "  Te  are  a  braw  lass." 

"  Te  maunna  think  ill  o'  me,  Curly.  I  hae  tell't  ye  the 
trowth." 

"  Jist  lat  me  kiss  yer  bonnie  ban'  and  I'll  gang  content." 

Wisely  done  or  not,  it  was  truth  and  tenderness  that  made 
ner  offer  her  lips  instead.  He  turned  in  silence,  comforted  for 
the  time,  though  the  comfort  would  evaporate  long  before  the 
trouble  would  sink. 

"  Curly  !  "  cried  Annie,  and  he  came  back. 

"  I  think  that's  young  Robert  Bruce  been  to  Clippenstrae 
to  speir  efter  me.  Dinna  lat  him  come  farther.  He's  an  un- 
ceevil  fallow." 

"  Grin  he  wins  by  me,  he  maun  hae  mair  feathers  nor  I  hae," 
said  Curly,  and  walked  on. 

Annie  followed  slowly.  "When  she  saw  the  men  meet  she 
sat  down. 

Curly  spoke  first,  as  he  came  up. 

"  A  fine  day,  Bobbie,"  he  said. 

Bruce  made  no  reply,  for  relations  had  altered  since  school- 
days. It  was  an  evil  moment  however  in  which  to  carry  a 
high  chin  to  Willie  Macwha,  who  was  out  of  temper  with  the 
whole  world  except  Annie  Anderson.  He  strode  up  to  the 
colliginer. 

"I  said  it  was  a  fine  day,"  he  repeated. 

"  Well,  I  said  nothing  to  the  contrary,"  answered  Bruce, 
putting  on  his  English. 

"It's  the  custom  i''this  country  to  mak  what  answer  a 
man  has  the  sense  to  mak  whan  he's  spoken  till  ceevily." 

"  I  considered  you  uncivil." 

"  That's  jist  what  a  bonnie  lassie  sittin'  yonner  said  aboot  you 
whan  she  prayed  me  no  to  lat  you  gang  a  step  nearer  till  her." 

Curly  found  it  at  the  moment  particularly  agreeable  to 
quarrel.  Moreover  he  had  always  disliked  Bruce,  and  now 
hated  him  because  Annie  had  complained  of  him. 

"  I  have  as  much  right  to  walk  here  as  you  or  any  one  else," 
said  Bruce. 

"  Maybe  ;  but  even  colliginers  doesna  aye  get  their  richts. 
Ae  richt  whiles  rides  upo'  the  tap  o'  anither.  And  Annie 
Anderson  has  a  richt  no  to  be  disturbit,  whan  her  uncle, 
honest  man,  's  jist  lyin'  waitin'  for's  coffin  i'  the  boose  yonner." 

"  I'm  her  cousin." 

"  It's  sma'  comfort  ony  o'  yer  breed  ever  brocht  her.  Cousin 
or  no,  ye  sanna  gang  near  her." 

"  I'll  go  where  I  please,"  said  Bruce,  moving  to  pass. 

Curly  moved  right  in  front  of  him. 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEX,  393 

"  By  me  ye  shanna  gang.  I  liae  lickit  ye  afore  for  bein' 
ill  till  her ;  and  I  will  again  gin  ye  gang  a  step  nearer  till 
her.  She  doesna  want  ye.  Faith  I  will !  But  I  wad  raither 
no  fecht  afore  her.  Sae  jist  come  back  to  the  toon  wi'  me, 
and  we'll  say  nae  mair  aboot  it." 

"  I'll  see  you  damned !  "  said  Bruce. 

"  Maybe  ye  may,  bein'  likly  to  arrive  at  the  spot  first. 
But  i'  the  mean  time,  gin  ye  dinna  want  her  to  see  ye  lickit, 
come  doon  into  yon  how,  and  we'll  jist  sattle  aff  han'  wha's 
the  best  man  o'  the  twa." 

"  I  won't  move  a  step  to  please  you  or  any  one  else,"  re- 
turned Bruce.  He  saw  that  his  safety  consisted  in  keeping 
within  sight  of  Annie. 

Curly  saw  on  his  part  that,  a  few  steps  nearer  to  where 
Annie  sat,  the  path  led  behind  a  stunted  ash-tree.  So  he 
stepped  aside  with  the  proverb, 

"  He  that  will  to  Coupar,  maun  to  Coupar," 

Without  deigning  a  word,  Bruce  walked  on,  full  of  pride, 
concluding  that  Curly' s  heart  had  failed  him.  But  the 
moment  he  was  behind  the  tree.  Curly  met  him  from  the 
other  side  of  it.  Then  Bruce's  anger,  if  not  his  courage,  rose, 
and  with  an  oath,  he  pushed  against  him  to  pass.  But  the 
sensation  he  instantly  felt  in  his  nose  astonished  him ;  and 
the  blood  beginning  to  flow  cowed  him  at  once.  He  put  his 
handkerchief  to  his  face,  turned,  and  walked  back  to  Grlamer- 
ton.  Curly  followed  him  at  a  few  yards'  distance,  regretting 
that  he  had  showed  the  white  feather  so  soon,  as,  otherwise, 
he  would  have  had  the  pleasure  of  thrashing  him  properly. 
He  saw  him  safe  in  at  the  back-door,  and  then  went  to  his 
own  father's  shop. 

After  a  short  greeting,  very  short  on  Curly' s  part, 

"  Hoot !  Willie,"  said  his  father,  "  what's  come  ower  ye  ? 
Ye  luik  as  gin  some  lass  had  said  na  to  ye." 

"  Some  lasses'  no  's  better  not  ither  lasses'  ay,  father." 

"  Deed  maybe,  laddie,"  said  George ;  adding  to  himself, 
"  That  maun  hae  been  Annie  Anderson — nae  ither." 

He  was  particularly  attentive  and  yielding  to  Willie 
during  his  short  visit,  and  Willie  understood  it. 

Had  Annie  been  compelled,  by  any  evil  chance,  to  return 
to  the  garret  over  Eobert  Bruce's  shop,  she  would  not  indeed 
have  found  the  holes  in  the  floor  and  the  roof  reopened ;  but 
she  would  have  found  that  the  carpet  and  the  curtains  were 
gone. 

The  report  went  through  Glamerton  that  she  and  Willie 
Macwha  were  coortirC. 


394 


CHAPTER  LXXXIII. 

Thomas  Crann's  conversation  with  Mr  Cupples  deepened 
both  his  annoyance  and  his  grief  at  the  membership  of  Eobert 
Bruce.  What  was  the  use  of  a  church  if  such  men  as  he  got 
into  it,  and,  having  got  in,  could  not  be  got  out  ?  Had  he 
been  guilty  of  any  0])en  fault,  such  as  getting  drunk,  for  one 
solitary  and  accidental  instance  of  which  they  had  excluded 
one  of  their  best  and  purest-minded  men,  they  could  have  got 
rid  of  him  with  comparative  ease ;  but  who  so  free  of  fault 
as  Bruce  ?  True,  he  was  guilty  of  the  crime  of  over-reach- 
ing whenever  he  had  a  chance,  and  of  cheating  when  there 
was  no  risk  of  being  found  out — at  least  so  everybody 
believed — but  he  had  no  faults.  The  duty,  therefore,  that  lay 
upon  every  member,  next  to  the  cleanness  of  his  own  garments 
— that  of  keeping  the  church  pure  and  unspotted — was  hard 
to  fulfil,  and  no  one  was  ready  to  undertake  it  but  Thomas 
Crann.  For  what  a  spot  was  here !  And  Thomas  knew  his 
Lord's  will. 

Neither  was  the  duty  so  unpleasant  to  Thomas's  oppositive 
nature,  as  it  would  have  been  to  a  man  of  easier  temperament. 

"  Jeames  Johnstone,"  he  said,  "  the  kirk  maks  nae  pro- 
gress. It's  no  as  i'  tiie  time  o'  the  apostles  whan  the  saved 
war  added  till't  daily." 

"  Weel,  ye  see,"  returned  James,  "  that  wasna  oor  kirk 
exacly ;  and  it  wasna  Mr  Turnbull  that  was  the  heid  o'  't." 

"  It's  a'  the  same.  The  prenciple's  the  same.  An'  Mr 
Turnbull  preaches  the  same  gospel  Peter  and  Paul  praiched, 
and  wi'  unction  too.  And  yet  here's  the  congregation 
dwin'lin'  awa',  and  the  church  itsel'  like  naething  but  bees 
after  the  brunstane.  /  say  there's  an  Ahchan  i'  the  camp — a 
Jonah  i'  the  vessel — a  son  o'  !Saul  i'  the  kingdom  o'  Dawvid — 
a  Judas  amo'  the  twal' — a — " 

"Hoots!  Thomas  Crann;  ye're  no  pittin'  a'  thae  gran' 
names  upo'  that  puir  feckless  body.  Hob  Bruce,  are  ye  ?  " 

"  He's  nane  feckless  for  the  deevil's  wark  or  for  his  ain, 
which  is  ao  thing  and  the  same.  Oot  he  maun  gang,  gin  we 
tak'  him  by  the  scruff  o'  the  neck  and  the  doup  o'  the  breeks." 

"  Dinna  jeiat,  Thomas,  aboot  sic  a  dangerous  thing,"  said 
James,  mildly  ghxd  of  one  solitary  opportunity  of  rebuking  the 
granite-minded  mason. 

"  Jeist !  I'm  far  eneuch  frae  jeistin'.  Ye  diuua  ken  fer- 
vour frae  jokin',  Jeames  Johnstone." 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOAVGI.EX.  395 

"  He  miclit  tak'  the  law  upo's  for  defamin'  o'  's  character ; 
and  that  wad  be  an  awfu'  thing  for  puir  fowk  likens,  Thamas." 

"  Aye  the  same  thing  ower  again,  Jeames  !  Shy  at  a  stane, 
and  fa'  into  the  stank  (ditch).  That's  the  pairt  o'  a  colt  and 
no  o'  a  Christian." 

"  But  arena  we  tellt  to  be  wise  as  serpents  ?  " 

"Te  wad  tak'  a  heap  o'  tellin'  upo'  that  held,  Jeames." 

"  Ow,  'deed  ay  !  And  I'm  no  my  lane,  Thamas.  But  we 
are  tellt  that." 

"  The  serpent  tui'ned  oot  an  ill  cooncellor  upon  ae  occasion 
ower  well  to  be  remembert  by  Adam's  race." 

"  The  words  stan'  as  I  say,"  persisted  James. 

"  Te're  no  to  mak'  the  serpent  yer  cooncellor,  man.  But 
ance  ye  ken  yer  duty,  ye  may  weel  tak  example  by  him  hoo  to 
carry  't  oot.  Did  ye  ever  see  an  edder  lyin'  ower  a  stane  as  gin 
he  was  naething  but  a  stick  himsel',  bidin'  's  time  ?  That's  me, 
i'  the  Scriptur'  sense.  I'm  only  bidin'  till  I  see  hoo.  A  body 
maunna  do  ill  that  gude  may  come,  though  wow  !  it's  a  sair 
temptation  whiles  ;  neither  maun  a  body  neglec  to  do  richt  for 
fear  that  ill  may  follow." 

"  Ay,  true  that.  But  ye  needna  burn  the  hoose  to  ricl  the 
rottans.  I  doot  ye'll  get's  a'  into  ower  het  water  ;  and  a  body 
needna  tak'  the  skin  aff  for  the  sake  o'  cleanliness.  Jist  tak  ye 
tent  {care,  attentioii),  Thamas,  what  ye're  aboot." 

Having  thus  persisted  in  opposing  Thomas  to  a  degree  he 
had  never  dared  before,  James  took  his  departure,  pursued  by 
the  words  : 

"  Tak  ye  care,  Jeames,  that  in  savin'  the  richt  ban'  ye  dinna 
send  the  haill  body  to  hell.  It  was  aye  yer  danger.  I  never 
got  bauld  coonsel  frae  ye  yet." 

"  There's  mair  vertues  i'  the  Bible  nor  courage,  Thamas," 
retorted  James,  holding  the  outer  door  open  to  throw  the 
sentence  in,  and  shutting  it  instantly  to  escape  with  the  last 
word. 

Thomas,  abandoned  to  his  own  resources,  meditated  long 
and  painfully.  But  all  he  could  arrive  at  was  the  resolution  to 
have  another  talk  with  Mr  Cupples.  He  might  not  be  a 
Christian  man,  but  he  was  an  honest  and  trustworthy  man,  and 
might  be  able  from  his  scholarship  to  give  him  some  counsel. 
So  he  walked  to  Howglen  the  next  day,  and  found  him  with 
Alec  in  the  harvest-field.  And  Alec's  reception  of  Thomas 
showed  what  a  fine  thing  illness  is  for  bringing  people  to  their 
right  minds. 

Mr  Cupples  walked  aside  with  Thomas,  and  they  seated 
themselves  on  two  golden  sheaves  at  the  foot  of  a  stook. 


396  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  What  ye  said  to  me  the  ither  day,  sir,"  began  Thomas, 
"  has  stuckeu  fest  i'  my  crap,  ever  sin'  syne.  We  maun  hae 
him  oot." 

"  Na,  na  ;  ye  better  lat  him  sit.  He'll  baud  doon  yer  pride. 
That  man's  a  judgment  on  ye  for  wantin'  to  be  better  nor  yer 
neebors.  Dinna  try  to  win  free  o'  judgment.  But  I'll  tell  ye 
what  I  wad  hae  ye  do  :  Mak  muckle  o'  'm.  Gie  him  tether 
eneuch.  He'll  gang  frae  ill  to  waur,  ye  may  depen'.  He'll 
steal  or  a'  be  dune." 

"  To  the  best  o'  my  belief,  sir,  that's  no  to  come.  He's 
stolen  already,  or  I'm  sair  mista'en." 

"  Ay !  Can  ye  pruv  that  ?  That's  anither  maitter,"  re- 
turned Cupples,  beginning  to  be  interested. 

"  I  dinna  ken  whether  I  oucht  to  hae  mentioned  it  to  ane 
that  wasna  a  member,  though ;  but  it  jist  cam  oot  o'  'tsel' 
like." 

"  Sae  the  fac'  that  a  man's  a  member  wha's  warst  crime 
may  be  that  he  is  a  member,  maks  him  sic  precious  gear  that 
he  maunua  be  meddlet  wi'  i'  the  presence  o'  an  honest  man, 
wha,  thank  God,  has  neither  pairt  nor  lot  in  ony  sic  maitter  ?  " 
"  Dinna  be  angry,  Mr  Cupples.  I'll  tell  ye  a'  aboot  it," 
pleaded  Thomas,  than  who  no  man  could  better  recognize  good 
sense. 

But  the  Cosmo  Cupples  who  thus  attracted  the  confidence 
of  Thomas  Crann  was  a  very  different  man  from  the  Cosmo 
Cupples  whom  first  Alec  Forbes  went  to  the  garret  to  see  at 
his  landlady's  suggestion.  All  the  flabbiness  had  passed  from 
his  face,  and  his  eyes  shone  clearer  than  ever  from  a  clear  com- 
plexion. His  mouth  still  gave  a  first  impression  of  unsteadi- 
ness ;  no  longer,  however,  from  the  formlessness  of  the  loose 
lips,  but  from  the  continual  flickering  of  a  nascent  smile  that 
rippled  their  outline  with  long  wavy  motions  of  evanescent 
humour.  His  dress  was  still  careless,  but  no  longer  neglected, 
and  his  hand  was  as  steady  as  a  rifleman's. 

Nor  had  he  found  it  so  hard  to  conquer  his  fearful  habit 
as  even  he  had  expected  ;  for  with  every  week  passed  in  bitter 
abstinence,  some  new  well  would  break  from  the  rich  soil  of  his 
intellect,  and  irrigate  with  its  sweet  waters  the  parched  border 
land  between  his  physical  and  psychical  being.  And  when  he 
had  once  again  betaken  himself  to  the  forsaken  pen,  there  was 
little  reason  to  fear  a  relapse  or  doubt  a  final  victory.  A  play- 
ful humanity  radiated  from  him,  the  result  of  that  powerfullest 
of  all  restoratives — f]iving  of  what  one  has  to  him  who  has  not. 
Indeed  his  reformation  had  begun  with  this.  St  Paul  taught 
a  thief  to  labour,  that  he  might  have  to  give  :  Love  taught  JMr 


ALEC  FORBEvS   OF    HOWGLEN.  397 

Cupples  to  deny  himself  that  he  might  rescue  his  friend ;  and 
presently  he  had  found  his  feet  touching  the  rock.  If  he  had 
not  yet  learned  to  look  "  straight  up  to  heaven,"  his  eyes  wan- 
dered not  unfrequently  towards  that  spiritual  horizon  upon 
which  things  earthly  and  things  heavenly  meet  and  embrace. 

To  such  a  Cosmo  Cupples,  then,  Thomas  told  the  story  of 
Annie  Anderson's  five-pound  note.  As  he  spoke,  Cupples  was 
tormented  as  with  the  flitting  phantom  of  a  half-forgotten 
dream.     All  at  once,  light  flashed  upon  him. 

"  And  sae  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  asked  Thomas  as  he  finished 
his  tale. — "  I  can  pruv  naething ;  but  I'm  certain  i'  my  ain 
min',  kennin'  the  man's  nater,  that  it  waa  that  note  he  tuik  oot 
o'  the  Bible." 

"  I'll  put  the  proof  o'  that  same  into  yer  ban's,  or  I'm  sair 
mista'en,"  said  Mr  Cupples. 

"  You,  Mr  Cupples  ?  " 

"  Ay,  me,  Mr  Crann.  But  maybe  ye  wadna  tak  proof  frae 
sic  a  sinner  against  sic  a  sanct.  Sae  ye  may  keep  yer  sanct  i' 
yer  holy  boasom." 

"  Dinna  gang  on  that  gait,  Mr  Cupples.  Grin  ye  can  direc' 
me  to  the  purification  o'  our  wee  bit  temple,  I'll  hearken 
heumbly.     I  only  wiss  ye  war  ane  o'  us." 

"  I'll  bide  till  ye  hae  gotten  rid  o'  Bruce,  ony  gait. — I  care 
naething  for  yer  sma'  separatist  kirkies. — I  wonner  ye  dinna 
pray  for  a  clippin'  o'  an  auld  sun  that  ye  micht  do  withoot  the 
common  daylicht.  But  I  do  think  it's  a  great  shame — that  sic 
a  sneak  sud  be  i'  the  company  o'  honest  fowk,  as  I  tak  the  maist 
o'  ye  to  be.  Sae  I'll  do  my  best.  Te'll  hear  frae  me  in  a  day 
or  twa." 

Cupples  had  remembered  the  inscription  on  the  fly-leaf  of 
the  big  Bible,  which,  according  to  Thomas  Crann,  Mr  Cowie 
had  given  to  Annie.     He  now  went  to  James  Dow. 

"  Did  Annie  ever  tell  ye  aboot  a  Bible  that  Mr  Cowie  ga'e 
her,  Jeames  ?  " 

"  Ay  did  she.     I  min'  't  fine." 

"  Cud  ye  get  a  baud  o'  't." 

"  Eh !  I  dinna  ken.  The  crater  has  laid  hia  ain  cleuks 
upo'  't.  It's  a  sod  pity  that  Annie's  oot  o'  the  hoose,  or  she 
micht  hae  stown't  {stolen  it)." 

"  Truly,  bein'  her  ain,  she  micht.  But  ye're  a  kin'  o'  a 
guairdian  till  her — arena  ye  ?  " 

"  Ow !  ay.  I  hae  made  mysel'  that  in  a  way  ;  but  Bruce 
wad  aye  be  luikit  upon  as  the  proper  guairdian." 

"  Hae  ye  ony  baud  upo'  the  siller  ?  " 

"  I  gart  him  sign  a  lawyer's  paper  aboot  it." 


398  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN, 

"  Weel,  ye  jist  gang  and  demand  the  Bible,  alang  wi'  the 
lave  o'  Annie's  property.  Ye  ken  she's  had  trouble  aboot  her 
kist  {chest),  and  canna  get  it  frae  the  swallowin'  cratur.'  And 
gin  he  maks  ony  demur,  jist  drap  a  hint  o'  gaein  to  the  lawyer 
aboot  it.  The  like  o'  him's  as  fleytat  a  lawyer  as  cats  at  cauld 
water.  Get  the  Bible  we  maun.  And  ye  maun  fess't  to  me 
direckly." 

Dow  was  a  peaceable  man,  and  did  not  much  relish  the  com- 
mission. Cupples,  thinking  he  too  was  a  missionar,  told  him 
the  story. 

"  Weel,"  said  Dow,  "lat  him  sit  there.  Maybe  they'll  hand 
him  frae  doin'  mair  mischeef.  Whan  ye  jabble  a  stank,  the 
stink  rises." 

."  I  thocht  ye  was  ane  o'  them.     Te  maunna  lat  it  oot." 

"  Na,  na.     I  s'  hand  my  tongue." 
^  "  J  care  naething  aboot  it.      But  there's  Thamas  Crann  jist 
eatin'  his  ain  hert.     It's  a  sin  to  lat  sic  a  man  live  in  sic 
distress." 

"  'Deed  is't.  He's  a  gude  man  that.  And  he's  been  verra 
kin'  to  oor  Annie,  Mr  Cupples. — I'll  do  as  ye  say.  Whan  do 
ye  want  it  ?  " 

"  This  verra  nicht." 

So  after  his  day's  work,  which  was  hard  enough  at  this 
season  of  the  year,  was  over,  James  Dow  put  on  his  blue  Sun- 
day coat,  and  set  off  to  the  town.  He  found  Eobert  Bruce 
chaffering  with  a  country  girl  over  some  butter,  for  which  he 
wanted  to  give  her  less  than  the  market-value.  This  roused 
his  indignation,  and  put  him  in  a  much  fitter  mood  for  an  alter- 
cation. 

"  I  winna  gie  ye  mair  nor  fivepence.  Hoo  are  ye  the  day, 
Mr  Doo  ?  I  tell  ye  it  has  a  goo  {Fren.  gout)  o'  neeps  or 
something  waur." 

"  Hoo  can  that  be,  Mr  Bruce,  at  this  sizzon  o'  the  year, 
■whan  there's  plenty  o'  gerss  for  man  an'  beast  an'  a'  cratur  ?  " 
said  the  gii"l. 

"  It's  no  for  me  to  say  hoo  it  can  be.  That's  no  my  busi- 
ness.    Noo,  Mr  Doo  ?  " 

Bruce,  whose  very  life  lay  in  driving  bargains,  had  a  great 
dislike  to  any  interruption  of  the  process.  Tet  he  forsook  the 
girl  as  if  he  had  said  all  lie  had  to  say,  and  turned  to  James 
Dow.  For  he  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him  before  concluding  his 
bargain  with  the  girl,  whose  butter  he  was  determined  to  have 
even  if  he  must  pay  her  own  price  for  it.  Like  the  Reeve  in 
the  Canterbury  Tales,  who  "  ever  rode  the  hinderest  of  the 
rout,"  beinj}:  such  a  rogue  and  such  a  rogue-catcher  that  he 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  399 

could  not  bear  anybody  behind  his  back,  Bruce,  when  about 
the  business  that  his  soul  loved,  eschewed  the  presence  of  any 
third  person. 

"  IS'oo,  Mr  Doo  ?  "  he  said. 

"  My  business'U  keep,"  replied  Dow. 

"  But  ye  see  we're  busy  the  nicht,  Mr  Doo." 

"  Weel,  I  dinua  want  to  hurry  ye.  But  I  wonner  that  ye 
wad  buy  ill  butter,  to  please  onybody,  even  a  bonnie  lass  like 
that." 

"  Some  fowk  likes  the  taste  o'  neeps,  though  I  dinna  like  it 
mysel',"  answered  Bruce.  "  But  the  lac'  that  neeps  is  no  a 
favourite  wi'  the  maist  o'  fowk,  brings  doon  the  price  i'  the 
market." 

"  Neeps  is  neither  here  nor  there,"  said  the  girl ;  and  taking 
up  her  basket,  she  was  going  to  leave  the  shop. 

"Bide  a  bit,  my  lass,"  cried  Bruce.  "The  mistress  wad 
like  to  see  ye.  Jist  gang  benn  the  hoose  to  her  wd'  yer  basket, 
and  see  what  she  thinks  o'  the  butter.  I  may  be  wrang,  ye 
ken." 

So  saying  he  opened  the  inner  door,  and  ushered  the  young 
woman  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Noo,  Mr  Doo  ?  "  he  said  once  more.  "  Is't  tobawco,  or 
sneeshin  {snuff),  or  what  is't  ?" 

"  It's  Annie  Anderson's  kist  and  a'  ^er  gear." 

"  I'm  surprised  at  ye,  Jeames  Doo.  There's  the  lassie's 
room  up  the  stair,  fit  for  ony  princess,  whanever  she  likes  to 
come  back  till't.  But  she  was  aye  a  royt  {riotous)  lassie,  an'  a 
reglar  rintheroot." 

"  Te  lee,  Eob  Bruce,"  exclaimed  Dow,  surprised  out  of  his 
proprieties.     "  Whaever  ye  say  that  till,  dinna  say't  to  me." 

Bruce  was  anything  but  a  quarrelsome  man  with  other  than 
his  inferiors.     He  pocketed  the  lie  very  calmly. 

"Dinna  lowae  yer  temper,  Mr  Doo.     It's  a  sairfau't  that." 

"  Jist  ye  deliver  up  the  bairn's  efiecks,  or  I'll  gang  to  them 
that'll  gar  ye." 

"  AVha  micht  that  be,  Mr  Doo  ?  "  asked  Bruce,  wishing  first 
to  find  out  how  far  Dow  was  prepared  to  go. 

"  Te  hae  no  richt  whatever  to  keep  that  lassie's  claes,  as 
gin  she  aucht  (owed)  you  onything  for  rent." 

"  Hae  i/e  ony  richt  to  tak  them  awa'  ?  Hoo  ken  I  what'll 
come  o'  tliem  ?  " 

"  Weel,  I  s'  awa'  doon  to  Mr  Gibb,  and  we'll  see  what  can  be 
dune  there.  It's  weel  kent  ower  a'  Glamerton,  Mr  Bruce,  in  wliat 
maiuner  you  and  yer  haill  hoose  hae  borne  yersels  to  that 
orphan  lassie  ;  and  I'll  gang  into  ilka  chop,  as  I  gang  doon  the 


400  ALEC    FORBES   OF   HO'.VGLEX. 

street,  that  is,  whaur  I'm  acquant,  and  I'll  jist  tell  them  whaur 
I'm  gaun,  and  what  for." 

The  thing  which  beyond  all  others  Bruce  dreaded  was  un- 
remunerative  notoriet3^ 

"  Hoots  !  Jeames  Doo,  ye  dinna  ken  jokin'  frae  jeistia'. 
I  never  was  the  man  to  set  mysel'  i'  the  face  o'  onythiug  rizzou- 
able.  But  ye  see  it  wad  be  cast  up  to  the  haill  o'  's  that  we 
had  driven  the  puir  lassie  oot  o'  the  hoose,  and  syne  flung  her 
things  efter  her." 

"  The  tane  ye  hae  dune.  The  tither  ye  shanna  do,  for  I'll 
tak  them.  And  I'll  tell  ye  what  fowk'll  say  gin  ye  dinna  gie 
up  the  things.  They'll  say  that  ye  baith  drave  her  awa'  and 
keepit  her  bit  duds.     I'll  see  to  that — and  mair forhye.'''' 

Bruce  understood  that  he  referred  to  Annie's  money.  His 
object  in  refusing  to  give  up  her  box  had  been  to  retain  as  long 
as  possible  a  chance  of  persuading  her  to  return  to  his  house ; 
for  should  she  leave  it  finally,  her  friends  might  demand  the 
interest  in  money,  which  at  present  he  was  bound  to  pay  only 
in  aliment  and  shelter,  little  of  either  of  which  she  required  at 
his  hands.     But  here  was  a  greater  danger  still. 

"  Mother,"  he  cried,  "  pit  up  Miss  Anderson's  claes  in  her 
box  to  gang  wi'  the  carrier  the  morn's  mornin'." 

"  I'll  tak  them  wi'  me,"  said  Dow  resolutely. 

"  Te  canua.     Ye  haena  a  cairt." 

"  Te  get  them  pitten  up,  and  I'll  fess  a  barrow,"  said  James, 
leaving  the  shop. 

He  borrowed  a  wheelbarrow  from  Thomas  Crann,  and  found 
the  box  ready  for  him  when  he  returned.  The  moment  he  lifted 
it,  he  was  certain  from  the  weight  of  the  poor  little  property 
that  the  Bible  was  not  there. 

"Ye  haena  pitten  in  Mr  Cooie's  Bible." 

"  Mother  !  did  ye  pit  in  the  Bible  ?  "  cried  Bruce,  for  the 
house-door  was  open. 

"  'Deed  no,  father.  It's  better  whaur't  is,"  said  Mrs  Bruce 
from  the  kitchen,  with  shrill  response. 

"  Te  see,  Mr  Doo,  the  Bible's  lain  sae  lang  there,  that  it's 
jist  oor  ain.  And  the  lassie  canua  want  it  till  she  has  a  fai- 
mily  to  hae  worship  wi'.  And  syne  she  s'  be  welcome  to  tak' 
it." 

"  Te  gang  up  the  stair  for  the  bulk,  or  I'll  gang  mysel'." 

Bruce  went  and  fetclied  it,  with  a  bad  grace  enough,  and 
handed  over  with  it  the  last  tattered  remnants  of  his  respecta- 
bility into  the  hands  of  James  Dow. 

Mr  Cupples,  having  made  a  translation  of  the  inscription, 
took  it  to  Thomas  Crann. 


ALEC    FOKRES    OF    IIOWGLEN.  401 

"  Do  ye  mill'  what  Bruce  read  that  nicht  ye  saw  him  tak' 
something  oot  o'  the  beuk  ?  "  he  asked  as  he  entered. 

"  Ay,  weel  that.  He  began  wi'  the  twenty -third  psalm,  and 
gaed  on  to  the  neist." 

"  "Weel,  read  that.      I  faun'  't  on  a  blank  leaf  o'  the  buik." 

Thomas  read — '  Over  the  twenty-third  psalm  of  David  I  have 
laid  afive-pound  note  for  my  dear  Annie  Anderson,  after  my  death,^ 
— and  lifting  his  eyes,  stared  at  Mr  Cupples,  his  face  slowly 
brio-htening  with  satisfaction.  Then  a  cloud  came  over  his 
Ijrow — for  was  he  not  rejoicing  in  iniquity  ?  At  least  he  was 
rejoicing  in  coming  shame. 

"  Hoo  cud  it  hae  been,"  lie  asked  after  a  brief  pause,  "  that 
Bruce  didna  fa'  upo'  this,  as  weel's  you,  Mr  Cupples,  or  didna 
scart  it  oot  ?  " 

"  'Cause  'twas  written  in  Latin.  The  body  hadna  the  wit 
to  misdoobt  the  contents  o'  't.  It  said  naething  till  him,  and 
he  never  thoucht  it  cud  say  onything  ahoot  him." 

"It's  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  scholar,  Mr  Cupples." 

"Ay,  whiles." 

"  They  say  the  Miss  Cowies  are  great  scholars." 

"  Yerra  likly. — But  there's  ae  thing  mair  I  wad  put  ye  up 
till.  Can  ye  tell  the  day  o'  the  month  that  ye  gaed  hame  wi' 
yer  prayin'  frien' ?" 

"  It  was  the  nicht  o'  a  special  prayer-meetin'  for  the  state  o' 
Glamerton.  I  can  fin'  oot  the  date  frae  the  kirk-buiks.  What 
am  I  to  do  wi'  't  whan  I  hae't,  sir  ?  " 

"  Gang  to  the  bank  the  body  deals  wi',  and  spier  whether  a 
note  beirin'  thenummer  o'  thae  figures  was  paidintil  't  upo'  the 
Monday  followin'  that  Sunday,  and  wha  paid  it.  They'll  tell 
ye  that  at  ance." 

But  for  various  reasons,  which  it  is  needless  to  give  in  this 
history,  Thomas  was  compelled  to  postpone  the  execution  of  his 
project.  And  Kobert  went  on  buying  and  selling  and  getting 
gain,  all  unaware  of  the  pit  he  had  digged  for  himself. 


CHAPTEE  LXXXIV. 


One   Sunday  morning  Mr   Cupples  was   returning  from 
church  with  Alec. 

"  Te  likit  the  sermon  the  day,  Mr  Cupples." 
"  What  gars  ye  think  that  ?  " 

26 


402  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

"  I  saw  ye  takin'  notes  a'  the  time." 

"  Gleg-eed  mole  !  "  said  Mr  Cupples.  "  Luik  at  the  notes 
as  ye  ca'  them." 

"  Eh  !  it's  a  sang !  "  exclaimed  Alec  with  delight. 

"  What  cud  gar  ye  think  1  likit  sic  havers  ?  The  crater  was 
preachin'  till's  ain  shaidow.  And  he  pat  me  into  sic  an  un- 
christian temper  o'  dislike  to  him  and  a'  the  concern,  that  I  ran 
to  my  city  o'  refuge.  I  never  gang  to  the  kirk  wi'oot  it — I 
mean  my  pocket-buik.  And  I  tried  to  gie  birth  till  a  sang,  the 
quhilk,  like  Jove,  I  conceived  i'  my  held  last  nicht." 

"  Lat  me  luik  at  it,"  said  Alec,  eagerly. 

"  Na,  ye  wadnamak'  either  rhyme  or  rizzon  o'  't  as  it  stan's. 
I'll  read  it  to  ye." 

"  Come  and  sit  doon,  than,  on  the  ither  side  o'  the  dyke." 

A  dyke  in  Scotland  is  an  earthen  fence— to  my  prejudiced 
mind,  the  ideal  of  fences  ;  because,  for  one  thing,  it  never  keeps 
anybody  out.  And  not  to  speak  of  the  wild  bees'  bykes  in 
them,  with  their  inexpressible  honey,  like  that  of  Mount  Hy- 
mettus — to  the  recollection  of  the  man,  at  least — they  are 
covered  with  grass,  and  wild  flowers  grow  all  about  them, 
through  which  the  wind  harps  and  cax'ps  over  your  head,  fill- 
ing your  sense  with  the  odours  of  a  little  modest  yellow  tufty 
flower,  for  which  I  never  heard  a  name  in  Scotland :  the  Eng- 
lish call  it  Ladies'  Bedstraw. 

They  got  over  the  dyke  into  the  field  and  sat  down. 

"  Te  see  it's  no  lickit  eneuch  yet,"  said  Mr  Cupples,  and 
began. 

"  0  lassie,  ayont  the  hill ! 
Come  ower  the  tap  o'  the  hill ; 
Or  roun'  the  neuk  o'  the  hill ; 
For  I  want  ye  sair  the  nig'ht. 

I'm  needin'  ye  sair  the  nicht, 
For  I'm  tired  and  sick  o'  mysel'. 

A  body's  sel'  's  the  sairest  wcicht. 
0  lassie,  come  ower  the  hill. 

Gin  a  body  cud  be  a  thocht  o'  grace, 

And  no  a  sel'  ava  ! 
I'm  sick  o'  my  heid  and  my  ban's  and  my  face, 

And  my  thouchts  and  raysel'  and  a'. 

I'm  sick  o'  the  warl'  and  a' ; 
The  licht  gangs  by  wi'  a  hiss  ; 

For  throu'  my  con  the  sunbeams  fa'. 
But  my  weary  hert  they  miss. 

0  lassie,  ayont  the  hill ! 
Come  ower  the  tap  o'  the  hill, 
Or  roun'  the  neuk  o'  the  hill, 
For  I  want  ye  sair  the  nicht. 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  403 

For  gin  ance  I  saw  yer  bonnie  heid, 

And  the  sunlicht  o'  yer  hair, 
The  ghaist  o'  niysel'  wad  fa'  doon  deid, 

And  I'd  be  mysel'  nae  mail'. 

I  wad  be  mysel'  nae  niair, 
Filled  o'  the  sole  remeid, 

Slain  by  the  arrows  o'  licht  frae  yer  hair, 
Killed  by  yer  body  and  heid. 

0  lassie,  ayont  the  hill !  &c. 

But  gin  ye  lo'ed  me,  ever  so  sma* 

For  the  sake  o'  my  bonny  dame, 
Whan  I  cam'  to  life,  as  she  gaed  awa', 

I  could  bide  my  body  and  name. 

I  micht  bide  mysel',  the  weary  same. 
Aye  settin'  up  its  heid, 

Till  I  turn  frae  the  claes  that  cover  my  frame, 
As  gin  they  war  roun'  the  deid. 

0  lassie,  ayont  the  hill !  &c. 

But  gin  ye  lo'ed  me  as  I  lo'e  you, 

I  wad  ring  my  ain  deid  knell ; 
My  sel'  wad  vanish,  shot  through  and  through 

By  the  shine  o'  your  sunny  sel'. 

By  the  shine  o'  your  sunny  sel', 
By  the  licht  aneatli  your  broo, 

I  wad  dee  to  mysel',  and  ring  my  bell. 
And  only  live  in  you. 

0  lassie,  ayont  the  hill  ! 

Come  ower  the  tap  o'  the  hill, 
Or  roun'  the  neuk  o'  the  hill. 

For  I  want  ye  sair  the  night. 

I'm  needin'  ye  sair  the  nicht. 
For  I'm  tired  and  sick  o'  mysel ; 

A  body's  sel'  's  the  sairest  weicht ! 
0  lassie,  come  ower  the  hill." 

"  Isna  it  raitlier  metapheesical,  Mr  Cupples  ?  "  asked  Alee. 

"Ay  is't.  But  fowk's  metapheesical.  True,  they  dinna 
aye  ken't.  I  wad  to  God  I  cud  get  that  sel'  o'  mine  safe 
aneath  the  yird,  for  it  jist  torments  the  life  cot  o'  me  wi'  its 
ugly  face.     Hit  and  me  jist  stan's  an'  girns  at  ane  anither." 

"  It'll  tak  a  heap  o'  Christianity  to  lay  that  ghaist,  Mr 
Cupples.  That  I  ken  weel.  The  lassie  wadna  be  able  to  do't 
for  ye.  It's  ower  muckle  to  expec'  o'  her  or  ony  mortal 
woman.  For  the  sowl's  a  temple  biggit  for  the  Holy  Ghost, 
and  no  woman  can  fill't,  war  she  the  Virgin  Mary  ower  again. 
And  till  the  Holy  Ghost  comes  intil's  ain  hoose,  the  ghaist  that 
ye  speak  o'  winna  gang  oot." 

A  huge  form  towered  above  the  dyke  behind  them. 

"  Te  had  no  richt  to  hearken,  Thomas  Crann,"  said  Mr 
Cupples. 


404  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  returned  Thomas ;  "  I  never  thoucht  o' 
that.  The  soun'  was  sae  bonnie,  I  jist  stud  and  hearkened.  I  beg 
your  pardon. — But  that's  no  the  riclit  thing  for  the  Sawbath  day." 

"  But  ye're  haein'  a  walk  yersel',  it  seems,  Thomas." 

"  Ay ;  but  I'm  gaun  ower  the  hills  to  my  school.  An'  I 
maunna  bide  to  claver  wi'  ye,  for  I  hae  a  guid  twa  hoors'  traivel 
afore  me." 

"  Come  hame  wi'  us,  and  hae  a  mou'fu'  o'  denuer  afore  ye 
gang,  Thomas,"  said  Alec. 

"  Isa,  I  thank  ye.  It  does  the  sowl  gude  to  fast  a  wee  ae 
day  in  saiven.  I  had  a  piece,  though,  afore  I  cam' awa'.  What 
am  I  braggin'  o' !     Gude  day  to  ye." 

"  That's  an  honest  man.  Alec,"  said  Cupples. 

"He  is,"  returned  Alec.  "  But  he  never  will  do  as  other 
people  do." 

"  Perhaps  that's  the  source  of  his  honesty — that  he  walks 
by  an  inward  light,"  said  Cupples  thoughtfully. 

The  year  wore  on.  Alec  grew  confident.  They  returned 
together  to  their  old  quarters.  Alec  passed  his  examinations 
triumphantly,  and  continued  his  studies  with  greater  vigour 
than  before.  Especially  he  walked  tlie  hospitals  with  much 
attention  and  interest,  ever  warned  by  Cupples  to  beware  lest 
he  should  come  to  regard  a  man  as  a  physical  machine,  and  so 
grow  a  mere  doctoring  machine  himself. 

Mr  Eraser  declined  seeing  him.  The  old  man  was  in  a 
pitiable  condition,  and  indeed  never  lectured  again. 

Alec  no  more  frequented  his  old  dismal  haunt  by  the  sea- 
shore. The  cry  of  the  drowning  girl  would  not  have  come  to 
him  as  it  would  to  the  more  finely  nervous  constitution  of  Mr 
Cupples ;  but  the  cry  of  a  sea-gull,  or  the  wash  of  the  waves, 
or  even  the  wind  across  the  tops  cf  the  sand-hills,  would  liave 
been  enough  to  make  him  see  in  every  crest  whicli  tlie  wind 
tore  white  in  the  gloamiu,  the  forlorn  figure  of  the  girl  he  loved 
vanishing  from  his  eyes. 

The  more  heartily  he  worked  the  more  did  tlie  evil  as  well 
as  the  painful  portions  of  his  history  recede  into  the'  back- 
ground of  his  memory,  growing  more  and  more  like  the  traces 
left  by  a  bad,  turbid,  and  sorrowful  dream. 

Is  it  true  that  all  our  experiences  will  one  day  revive  in 
entire  clearness  of  outline  and  full  brilliancy  of  colour,  passing 
before  the  horror-struck  soul  to  the  denial  of  time,  ami  the 
assertion  of  ever-present  eternity  ?  If  so,  then  God  be  with 
us,  for  we  shall  need  him. 

Annie  Anderson's  great-aunt  took  to  her  bed  directly  after 
her  husband's  funeral. 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  405 

Finding  ttere  was  mucli  to  do  about  the  place,  Annie  felt 
no  delicacy  as  to  remaining.  She  worked  harder  than  ever  she 
had  worked  before,  blistered  her  hands,  and  browned  her  fair 
face  and  neck  altogether  autumnally.  Her  aunt  and  she  to- 
gether shore  {reaped)  the  little  field  of  oats  ;  got  the  sheaves 
home  and  made  a  rick  of  them  ;  dug  up  the  potatoes,  and 
covered  them  in  a  pit  with  a  blanket  of  earth ;  looked  after 
the  one  cow  and  calf  which  gathered  the  grass  along  the  road 
and  river  sides  ;  fed  the  pigs  and  the  poultry,  and  even  went 
with  a  neighbour  and  his  cart  to  the  moss,  to  howk  {dig)  their 
winter-store  of  peats.  But  this  they  found  too  hard  for  them, 
and  were  forced  to  give  up.  Their  neighbours,  however,  pro- 
vided their  fuel,  as  they  had  often  done  in  part  for  old  John 
Peterson. 

Before  the  winter  came  there  was  little  left  to  be  done ; 
and  Annie  saw  by  her  aunt's  looks  that  she  wanted  to  get  rid 
of  her.  Margaret  Anderson  had  a  chronic,  consuming  sense 
of  poverty,  and  therefore  worshipped  with  her  whole  soul  the 
monkey  Lars  of  saving  and  vigilance.  Hence  Annie,  as  soon 
as  Alec  was  gone,  went,  with  the  simplicity  belonging  to  her 
childlike  nature,  to  see  Mrs  Forbes,  and  returned  to  Clippen- 
strae  only  to  bid  them  good-bye. 

The  bodily  repose  and  mental  activity  of  the  winter  formed 
a  strong  contrast  with  her  last  experiences.  But  the  rainy, 
foggy,  frosty,  snowy  months  passed  away  much  as  they  had 
done  before,  fostering,  amongst  other  hidden  growths,  that  of 
Tilrs  Forbes'  love  for  her  semi-protegee,  whom,  like  Castor  and 
Pollux,  she  took  half  the  year  to  heaven,  and  sent  the  other 
half  to  Tartarus.  One  notable  event,  however,  of  considerable 
importance  in  its  results  to  the  people  of  Howglen,  took  place 
this  winter  amongst  the  missionars  of  Glamerton. 


CHAPTER  LXXXV. 


So  entire  was  Thomas  Crann's  notion  of  discipline,  that  it 
could  not  be  satisfied  with  the  mere  riddance  of  Robert  Bruce. 
Jealous,  therefore,  of  encroachment  on  the  part  of  minister  or 
deacons,  and  opposed  by  his  friend  James  Johnstone,  he  com- 
municated his  design  to  no  one ;  for  he  knew  that  the  higher 
powers,  anxious  to  avoid  scandal  wherever  possible,  would, 
instead  of  putting  the  hypocrite  to  shame  as  he  deserved, 
merely  send  him  a  civil  letter,  requesting  him  to  withdraw 


406  ALEC    FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

from  their  communion.  After  watching  for  a  fit  opportunity, 
lie  resolved  at  length  to  make  his  accusation  against  Eobert 
Bruce  in  person  at  an  approaching  church-meeting,  at  which, 
in  consequence  of  the  expected  discussion  of  the  question  of 
the  proper  frequency  of  the  administration  of  the  sacrament, 
a  full  attendance  of  members  might  be  expected. 

They  met  in  the  chapel,  which  was  partially  lighted  for  the 
occasion.  The  night  was  brilliant  with  frosty  stars,  as 
Thomas  walked  to  the  rendezvous.  He  felt  the  vigour  of  the 
season  in  his  yet  unsubdued  limbs,  but  as  he  watched  his 
breath  curling  in  the  frosty  air,  and  then  vanishing  in  the 
night,  he  thought  how  the  world  itself  would  pass  away  before 
the  face  of  Him  that  sat  on  the  great  white  throne  ;  and  how 
the  missionars  of  Glamerton  would  have  nothing  to  say  for 
themselves  on  that  day,  if  they  did  not  purify  themselves  on 
this,  r'rom  the  faint  light  of  the  stars  he  passed  into  the 
dull  illumination  of  the  tallow  candles,  and  took  his  place  in 
silence  behind  their  snuffer,  who,  though  half-witted,  had  yet 
shown  intelligence  and  piety  enough  for  admission  into  the 
community.  The  church  slowly  gathered,  and  at  length  Mr 
Turubull  appeared,  supported  by  his  deacons. 

After  the  usual  preliminary  devotions,  in  which  Robert 
Bruce  "engaged,"  the  business  of  the  meeting  was  solemnly 
introduced.  The  only  part  which  Thomas  Crann  took  in  it 
was  to  expostulate  with  the  candle-snufi'er,  who  being 
violently  opposed  to  the  wishes  of  the  minister,  and  not 
daring  to  speak,  kept  grumbling  in  no  inaudible  voice  at 
everything  that  came  from  that  side  of  the  house. 

"  Hoot,  Richard !  it's  Scriptur',  ye  ken,"  said  Thomas, 
soothingly. 

"  Scriptur'  or  no  Scriptur',  we're  nae  for't,"  growled 
Richard  aloud,  and  rising,  gave  vent  to  his  excited  feelings  by 
snuffing  out  and  relighting  every  candle  in  its  turn. 

At  length  the  further  discussion  of  the  question  was  post- 
poned to  the  next  meeting,  and  the  minister  was  preparing  to 
give  out  a  hymn,  when  Thomas  Crann's  voice  arose  in  the 
dusky  space.  Mr  Turnbull  stopped  to  listen,  and  there  fell  an 
expectant  silence ;  for  the  stone-mason  was  both  reverenced 
and  feared.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  more  than  the  dim  bulk  of 
his  figure,  but  he  spoke  with  slow  einpluisis,  and  every  word 
was  heard. 

"  Brethren  and  ofiice-beircrs  o'  the  churcli,  it's  upo'  disci- 
pline that  I  want  to  speak.  Discipline  is  ane  o'  the  maia 
objecs  for  which  a  church  is  gathered  by  the  spcerit  o'  God. 
And  we  maun  work  discipleeu  amo'  oorsels,  or  else  the  rod  o' 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX.  407 

tlie  Almichty'll  come  doon  upon  a'  oor  backs.  I  winna  haud 
ye  frae  particulars  ony  langer.- — Upon  a  certain  Sawbath  nicht 
i'  the  last  year,  I  gaed  into  Robert  Bruce's  Loose,  to  hae  wor- 
ship wi'  'm. — I'm  gaein  straucht  and  fair  to  the  pint  at  ance. 
Whan  he  opened  the  buik,  I  saw  him  slip  something  oot 
atween  the  leaves  o'  't,  and  crunkle  't  up  in  's  han',  luikin  his 
greediest.  Syne  he  read  the  twenty-third  and  fourt  psalms. 
I  cudua  help  watchin'  him,  and  whan  we  gaed  down  upo'  oor 
k-nees,  I  luikit  roon  efter  him,  and  saw  him  pit  something 
intil's  breek-pooch.  "Weel,  it  stack  to  me.  Efterhin  {after- 
icards)  I  fand  oot  frae  the  lassie  Annie  Anderson,  that  the 
buik  was  hers,  that  auld  Mr  Cooie  had  gien't  till  her  upo'  's 
deith-bed,  and  had  tell't  her  forbye  that  he  had  pitten  a  five 
poun'  note  atween  the  leaves  o'  't,  to  be  her  ain  in  remem- 
brance o'  him,  like.     What  say  ye  to  that,  Robert  Bruce  ?  " 

"  It's  a'  a  lee,"  cried  Robert,  out  of  the  dark  back-ground 
under  the  gallery,  where  he  always  placed  himself  at  such 
meetings,  "  gotten  up  atween  yersel'  and  that  ungratefu'  cousin 
o'  mine,  Jeames  Anderson's  lass,  wha  I  hae^keepit  like  ane  o' 
my  ain." 

Bruce  had  been  sitting  trembling  ;  but  when  Thomas  put 
the  question,  believing  that  he  had  heard  all  that  Thomas  had 
to  say,  and  that  there  was  no  proof  against  him,  he  resolved  at 
once  to  meet  the  accusation  with  a  stout  denial.  Whereupon 
Thomas  resumed : 

"  Te  hear  him  deny  't.  Weel,  I  hae  seen  the  said  Bible 
mysel';  and  there's  this  inscription  upo'  ane  o'  the  blank 
leaves  o'  't :  '  Over  the  twenty-third  psalm  o'  David,' — I  tellt 
ye  that  he  read  that  psalm  that  night — '  Over  the  twenty-third 
psalm  o'  David,  I  hae  laid  a  five  poun'  note  for  my  dear  Annie 
Anderson,  efter  my  deith ! '  Syne  follow^ed  the  nummer  o'  the 
note,  which  I  can  shaw  them  that  wants  to  see.  Koo  I  hae 
the  banker's  word  for  statin'  that  upo'  the  very  Monday 
mornin'  efter  that  Sunday,  Bruce  paid  into  the  bank  a  five 
poun'  note  o'  that  verra  indentical  nummer.  What  say  ye  to 
that,  Robert  Bruce  ?  " 

A  silence  followed.  Thomas  himself  broke  it  wuth  the 
words : 

"  That  money  he  oucht  to  hae  supposed  was  Mr  Cooie's, 
and  returned  it  till's  dochters.  But  he  pays't  intil's  ain 
accoont.  Ca'  ye  na  that  a  breach  o'  tlie  eicht  commandment, 
Robert  Bruce  ?  " 

But  now  Robert  Bruce  rose.  And  he  spoke  with  solemnity 
and  pathos. 

"  It's  a  sair  thing,  sirs,  that  amo'  Christians,  wha  ca'  them- 


408  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

sel's  a  chosen  priesthood  and  a  peculiar  people,  a  jiued  member 
o'  the  same  church  should  meet  wi'  sic  ill-guideship  as  I  hae 
met  wi'  at  the  han's  o'  Mr  Crann.  To  say  naething  o'  his  no 
bein'  ashamed  to  confess  bein'  sic  a  heepocreet  i'  the  sicht  o' 
God  as  to  luik  aboot  him  iipon  his  knees,  lyin'  in  wait  for  a 
man  to  do  him  hurt  whan  he  pretendit  to  be  worshippin'  wi' 
him  afore  the  Lord  his  Maker,  to  say  naething  o'  that  which  I 
wadna  hae  expeckit  o'  him,  he  gangs  aboot  for  auchteen  mouths 
contrivin'  to  bring  that  man  to  disgrace  because  he  daurna  mak' 
sic  a  strong  profession  as  he  mak's  himsel'.  But  the  warst  o' 
't  a'  is,  that  he  beguiles  a  young  thochtless  bairn,  wha  has  been 
the  cause  o'  muckle  discomfort  in  oor  boose,  to  jine  him  i'  the 
plot.  It's  true  eneuch  that  I  took  the  bank-note  frae  the  Bible, 
whilk  was  a  verra  unshuitable  place  to  put  the  unrichteous 
mammon  intil,  and  min's  me  upo'  the  money-changers  i'  the 
temple  ;  and  it's  true  that  I  paid  it  into  the  bank  the  neist 
day-" 

"  What  garred  ye  deny't,  than  ?  "  interrupted  Thomas. 

"  Bide  a  wee,  Mr  Crann,  and  caw  canny,  Te  hae  been 
hearkened  till  wi'oot  interruption,  and  I  maun  hae  fair  play 
here  whatever  I  get  frae  3  ersel'.  I  didna  deny  the  fac.  Wha 
could  deny  a  fac  ?  But  I  denied  a'  the  haill  affair,  i'  the  licht 
o'  wickedness  and  thievin'  that  Mr  Crann  was  castin'  upo'  't. 
I  saw  that  inscription  and  read  it  wi'  my  ain  een  the  verra  day 
the  lassie  brocht  the  beuk,  and  kenned  as  weel's  Mr  Crann  that 
the  siller  wasna  to  be  taen  hame  again.  But  I  said  to  mysel' : 
"  It'll  turn  the  lassie's  heid,  and  she'll  jist  fling't  awa'  in 
murlocks  (crumhs)  upo'  sweeties,  and  plunky,  and  sic  like,' 
for  she  was  aye  greedy,  '  sae  I'll  jist  pit  it  into  the  bank  wi'  my 
ain,  and  accoont  for't  efterhin  wi'  the  lave  o'  her  bit  siller  whan 
I  gie  that  up  intil  her  ain  han's.     Noo,  Mr  Crann! " 

He  sat  down,  and  Mr  Turnbull  rose. 

"  My  Christian  brethren,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  this 
is  not  the  proper  place  to  discuss  such  a  question.  It  seems  to 
me  likewise  ill-judged  of  Mr  Crann  to  make  such  an  accusation 
in  public  against  Mr  Bruce,  Avho,  I  must  say,  has  met  it  with 
a  self-restraint  and  a  self-possession  most  creditable  to  him,  and 
has  answered  it  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner.  The  hundredth 
psalm." 

"  Hooly  and  fairly,  sir  !  "exclaimed  Thomas,  forgetting  his 
manners  in  his  eagerness.  "  I  haena  dune  yet.  And  whaur 
wad  be  the  place  to  discuss  sic  a  queston  but  afore  a'  meetin  o' 
the  church  ?  Ca'  ye  that  the  public,  sir  ?  Wasna  the  church 
institute  for  the  sake  0' discipleen?  Sic  things  are  no  to  be 
ironed  oot  in  a  liole  an'  a  corner,  atween  you  and  the  deycons, 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEX.  409 

sir.  They  belang  to  the  liaill  body.  We're  a'  wranged  the- 
gither,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  whase  temple  we  sud  be,  is  wranged 
forby.  You  at  least  micht  keu,  sir,  that  he's  withdrawn  his 
presence  frae  oor  mids',  and  we  are  but  a  candle  under  a  bushel, 
and  not  a  city  set  upon  a  hill.  We  beir  no  witness.  And  the 
cause  o'  his  displeesur'  is  the  accursed  thing  which  the  Ahchan 
in  oor  camjj  has  hidden  i'  the  Coonty  Bank,  forby  mony  ither 
causes  that  come  hame  to  us  a'.  And  the  warl' jist  scoffs  at 
oor  profession  o'  religion,  whan  it  sees  sic  a  man  as  that  in  oor 
mids'." 

"  All  this  is  nothing  to  the  point,  Mr  Crann,"  said  Mr  Turn- 
bull  in  displeasure. 

"It's  to  the  verra  hert  o'  the  pint,"  returned  Thomas,  equally 
displeased.  "  Gin  Robert  Bruce  saw  the  inscription  the  day 
the  lassie  broucht  hame  the  buik,  will  he  tell  me  hoo  it  was 
that  he  cam'  to  lea'  the  note  i'  the  buik  till  that  Sawbath 
nicht?" 

"  I  luikit  for  't,  but  I  cudna  fin'  't,  and  thocht  she  had  ta'eu 
't  oot  upo'  the  road  hame." 

"  Cudna  ye  fin'  the  twenty-third  psalm  ? — But  jist  ae  thing 
mair,  Mr  TurubuU,  and  syne  I'll  baud  my  tongue,"  resumed 
Thomas. — "  Jeames  Johnstone,  will  ye  rin  ower  to  my  hoose, 
and  fess  the  Bible  ?  It's  lyin'  upo'  the  drawers.  Ye  canna 
mistak'  it. — Jist  hae  patience  till  he  comes  back,  sir,  and  we'll 
see  hoo  Mr  Bruce'll  read  the  inscription.  I  wad  hae  made 
nothing  o'  't,  gia  it  hadna  been  for  a  frien'  o'  mine.  But  Mr 
Bruce  is  a  scholar,  an'  '11  read  the  Laitiu  till  's." 

By  this  time  James  JohnsLone  was  across  the  street. 

"  There's  some  foul  play  in  this,"  cried  Bruce,  out  of  the 
darkness.  "  My  enemy  maun  sen'  for  an  ootlandish  speech 
and  a  heathen  tongue  to  insnare  ane  o'  the  brethren!  " 

Profound  silence  followed.  All  sat  expectant.  The  snufi" 
of  the  candles  grew  longer  and  longer.  Even  the  energetic 
Bichard,  who  had  opposed  the  Scripture  single-handed,  forgot 
his  duty  in  the  absorbing  interest  of  the  moment.  Every  ear 
was  listening  for  the  footsteps  of  the  returning  weaver,  bring- 
ing the  Bible  of  the  parish-clergyman  into  the  half-unhallowed 
precincts  of  a  conventicle.  At  a  slight  motion  of  one  of  the 
doors,  an  audible  start  of  expectation  broke  like  an  electric 
spark  from  the  still  people.  But  nothing  came  of  it.  They 
had  to  wait  full  five  minutes  yet  before  the  messenger  returned, 
bearing  the  large  volume  in  botli  liands  in  front  of  him. 

"  Tak'  the  buik  up  to  Mr  Turubull,  Jeames,  and  snuff  his 
can'les,"  said  Thomas. 

James  took  the  snuffers,  but  Eichard  started  up,  an;.tched 


410  ALEC   FOKBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

tbem  from  him,  and  performed  the  operation  himself  with  his 
usual  success. 

The  book  being  laid  on  the  desk  before  Mr  Turnbull, 
Thomas  called  out  into  the  back  region  of  the  chapel, 

"  Xoo,  Robert  Bruce,  come  foret,  and  fin'  oot  this  inscrip- 
tion that  ye  ken  a'  aboot  sae  weel,  and  read  it  to  the  church, 
that  they  may  see  what  a  scholar  they  hae  amo'  them." 

But  there  was  neither  voice  nor  hearing. 

After  a  pause,  Mr  Turnbull  spoke. 

"Mr  Bruce,  we're  waiting  for  you," he  said.  "Do  not  be 
afraid.     Ton  shall  have  justice." 

A  dead  silence  followed  the  appeal.  Presently  some  of  those 
furthest  back — they  were  women  in  hooded  cloaks  and  inutclies 
— spoke  in  scarce  audible  voices. 

"  He's  no  here,  sir.     "We  canna  see  him,"  they  said. 

The  minister  could  not  distinguish  their  words. 

"  ]N"o  here  !  "  cried  Thomas,  who,  deaf  as  he  was,  had  heard 
them.  "  He  was  here  a  minute  ago !  His  conscience  has 
spoken  at  last.     He's  fa' en  doon,  like  Ananias,  i'  the  seat." 

E-iehard  snatched  a  candle  out  of  the  candelabrum,  and  went 
to  look.  Others  followed  similarly  provided.  *They  searched 
the  pew  where  he  had  been  sitting,  and  the  neighbouring  pews, 
and  the  whole  chapel,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

"  That  wad  hae  been  him,  whan  I  heard  the  door  bang," 
they  said  to  each  other  at  length. 

And  so  it  was.  For  perceiving  how  he  had  committed  him- 
self, he  had  slipped  down  in  the  pew,  crawled  on  all  fours  to 
the  door,  and  got  out  of  the  place  vinsuspected. 

A  formal  sentence  of  expulsion  was  passed  upon  him  by  a 
show  of  hands,  and  the  word  Expelled  was  written  against  his 
name  in  the  list  of  church-members. 

"  Thomas  Crann,  will  you  engage  in  prayer,"  said  Mr  Turn- 
bull. 

"  Na,  nae  the  nicht,"  answered  Thomas.  "  I'm  like  ane 
under  the  auld  law  that  had  been  buryin'  the  deid.  I  hae 
been  doin'  necessar'  but  foul  wark,  and  I'm  defiled  in  conse- 
quence. I'm  no  in  a  richt  speerit  to  pray  in  public.  I  maun 
awa'  hame  to  my  prayers.  I  houp  I  mayna  do  something 
mysel'  afore  lang  that'll  mak'  it  necessar'  for  ye  to  dismiss  me 
neist.     But  gin  that  time  sud  come,  spare  not,  I  beseech  ye." 

So,  after  a  short  prayer  from  Mr  Turnbull,  the  meeting 
separated  in  a  state  of  considerable  excitement.  Tliomas  half 
expected  to  hear  of  an  action  for  libel,  but  Robert  knew  bet- 
ter than  venture  upon  that.  Besides,  no  damages  could  be 
got  out  of  Thomas. 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HO^VGEEN.  411 

"WTien  Bruce  was  once  outside  the  chapel,  he  assumed  the 
erect  posture  to  which  his  claim  was  entirely  one  of  specieti, 
and  went  home  by  circuitous  ways.  He  found  the  shop  still 
open,  attended  by  his  wife. 

" Preserve's,  Robert!  what's  come  ower  ye ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"I  had  sic  a  sair  heid  (Jieadache),  I  was  forced  to  come 
oot  afore  a'  was  dune,"  he  answered.  "  I  dinna  think  I'll 
gan^  ony  mair,  for  they  dinna  conduc'  things  a'thegither  to 
my  likin'.     I  winna  fash  mair  wi'  them." 

His  wife  looked  at  him  anxiously,  perhaps  with  some 
rague  suspicion  of  the  truth ;  but  she  said  nothing,  and  I  do 
not  believe  the  matter  was  ever  alluded  to  between  them. 
The  only  indications  remaining  the  next  day  of  what  he  had 
gone  through  that  evening,  consisted  in  an  increase  of  suavity 
towards  his  grown  customers,  and  of  acerbity  towards  the 
children  who  were  unfortunate  enough  to  enter  his  shop. 

Of  the  two,  however,  perhaps  Thomas  Crann  was  the 
more  unhappy  as  he  went  home  that  night.  He  felt  nothing 
of  the  elation  which  commonly  springs  from  success  in  a 
cherished  project.  He  had  been  the  promoter  and  agent  in 
the  downfall  of  another  man,  and  although  the  fall  was  a  just 
one,  and  it  was  better  too  for  the  man  to  be  down  than  stand- 
ing on  a  false  pedestal,  Thomas  could  not  help  feeling  the 
reaction  of  a  fellow-creature's  humiliation.  Now  that  the 
thing  was  done,  and  the  end  gained,  the  eternal  brotherhood 
asserted  itself,  and  Thomas  pitied  Bruce  and  mourned  over 
him.  He  must  be  to  him  henceforth  as  a  heathen  man  and  a 
publican,  and  he  was  sorry  for  him.  "  Te  see,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  it's  no  like  a  slip  or  a  sin ;  but  an  evil  disease 
cleaveth  fast  unto  him,  and  there's  sma'  chan'^e  o'  him  ever  re- 
pentin'  noo.  A'thing  has  been  dune  for  him  that  can  be  dune." 

Tet  Thomas  worshipped  a  God,  who,  if  the  theories  Thomas 
held  were  correct,  could  at  once,  by  the  free  gift  of  a  Holy 
Spirit,  generate  repentance  in  Bruce,  and  so  make  him  fit  for 
salvation  ;  but  who,  Thomas  believed,  would  not  do  so — at  all 
events,  might  not  do  so — keeping  him  alive  for  ever  in  howl- 
ing unbelief  instead. 

Scarcely  any  of  the  "  members  "  henceforth  saluted  Bruce 
in  the  street.  None  of  them  traded  with  him,  except  two  or 
three  who  owed  him  a  few  shillings,  and  could  not  pay  him. 
And  the  modifying  effect  upon  the  week's  returns  was  very 
perceptible.  This  was  the  only  form  in  which  a  recognizable 
vengeance  could  have  reached  him.  To  escape  from  it,  he 
had  serious  thoughts  of  leaving  the  place,  and  setting  up  in 
some  remote  village. 


412 


CHAPTEE  LXXXVI. 

J^OTWiTHSTANDiNG  Alec's  diligence  and  tlie  genial  com- 
panionship of  Mr  Cupples — whether  the  death  of  Eate,  or 
his  own  illness,  or  the  reaction  of  shame  after  his  sojourn  in 
the  tents  of  wickedness,  had  opened  dark  A'isions  of  the  world 
of  reality  lying  in  awful  unkuoicnness  around  the  life  he 
seemed  to  know,  I  cannot  tell, — cold  isolations  would  sud- 
denly seize  upon  him,  wherein  he  Avould  ask  himself — that 
oracular  cave  in  which  one  hears  a  thousand  questions  before 
one  reply — "  What  is  the  use  of  it  all — this  study  and  la- 
bour ?  "  And  he  interpreted  the  silence  to  mean  :  "  Life  is 
worthless.  There  is  no  glow  in  it — only  a  glimmer  and  shine 
at  best." — Will  my  readers  set  this  condition  down  as  one  of 
disease  ?  If  they  do,  I  ask,  "  Why  should  a  man  be  satisfied 
with  anything  such  as  was  now  within  the  grasp  of  Alec 
Forbes  ?  "  And  if  they  reply  that  a  higher  ambition  would 
have  set  him  at  peace  if  not  at  rest,  I  only  say  that  they 
would  be  nearer  health  if  they  had  his  disease.  Pain  is  not 
malady  :  it  is  the  revelation  of  malady — the  meeting  and  re- 
coil between  the  unknown  death  and  the  unknown  life ;  that 
jar  of  the  system  whereby  the  fact  becomes  known  to  the 
man  that  he  is  ill.  There  was  disease  in  Alec,  but  the  disease 
did  not  lie  in  his  dissatisfaction.  It  lay  in  that  poverty  of 
life  with  which  those  are  satisfied  who  call  such  discontent 
disease.  Such  disease  is  the  first  flicker  of  the  aurora  of  a 
rising  health. 

This  state  of  feeling,  however,  was  only  occasional ;  and  a 
reviving  interest  in  anything  belonging  to  his  studies,  or  a 
merry  talk  with  Mr  Cupples,  would  dispel  it  for  a  time,  just 
as  a  breath  of  fine  air  will  give  the  sense  of  perfect  health  to 
one  dying  of  consumption. 

But  what  made  these  questionings  develope  into  the 
thorns  of  a  more  definite  self-condemnation — the  advanced 
guard  sometimes  of  the  roses  of  peace — was  simply  this  : 

He  had  written  to  his  mother  for  money  to  lay  out  upon 
superior  instruments,  and  new  chemical  apparatus ;  and  his 
mother  had  replied  sadly  that  she  was  unable  to  send  it.  She 
hinted  that  his  education  had  cost  more  than  she  had  ex- 
pected. .  She  told  him  that  she  was  in  debt  to  Kobcrt  Bruce, 
and  had  of  late  been  compelled  to  delay  the  payment  of  its 
interest.  She  informed  him  also  that,  even  under  James 
Duw's  conscientious  management,  there  seemed  little  ground 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  413 

for  hoping  tliat  the  farm  would  ever  make  a  return  corre- 
spondent to  the  large  outlay  his  father  had  made  upon  it. 

This  letter  stung  Alec  to  the  heart.  That  his  mother 
should  be  in  the  power  of  .«iuch  a  man  as  Bruce,  was  bad 
enough  ;  but  that  she  should  have  been  exposed  for  his  sake 
to  the  indignity  of  requesting  his  forbearance,  seemed  unen- 
durable. To  despise  the  man  was  no  satisfaction,  the  right 
and  the  wrong  being  where  they  were. — ^And  what  proportion 
of  the  expenses  of  last  session  had  gone  to  his  college-ac- 
counts ? 

He  wrote  a  humble  letter  to  his  mother — and  worked 
still  harder.  For  although  he  could  not  make  a  shilling  at 
present,  the  future  had  hope  in  it. 

Meantime  Mr  Cupples,  in  order  that  he  might  bear  such 
outward  signs  of  inward  grace  as  would  appeal  to  the  per- 
ceptions of  the  Senatus,  got  a  new  hat,  and  changed  his 
shabby  tail-coat  for  a  black  frock.  His  shirt  ceased  to  be  a 
hypothesis  to  account  for  his  collar,  and  became  a  real  hy- 
postasis, evident  and  clean.  These  signs  of  improvement  led 
to  inquiries  on  the  part  of  the  Senatus,  and  the  result  was 
that,  before  three  months  of  the  session  were  over,  he  was 
formally  installed  as  librarian.  His  first  impulse  on  receiving 
the  good  news  was  to  rush  down  to  Luckie  Cumstie's  and 
have  a  double-tumbler.  But  conscience  was  too  strong  for 
Satan,  and  sent  him  home  to  his  pipe- — which,  it  must  be 
confessed,  he  smoked  twice  as  much  as  before  his  reformation. 

From  the  moment  of  iiis  appointment,  he  seemed  to  regard 
the  library  as  his  own  private  property,  or,  rather,  as  his  own 
family.  He  was  grandfather  to  the  books  :  at  least  a  grand- 
father shows  that  combination  of  parent  and  servant  which 
comes  nearest  to  the  relation  he  henceforth  manifested  towards 
them.  Most  of  them  he  gave  out  graciously  ;  some  of  them 
grudgingly  ;  a  few  of  them  with  much  reluctance ;  but  all  of 
them  Avith  injunctions  to  care,  and  special  warnings  against 
forcing  the  backs,  crumpling  or  folding  the  leaves,  and  making 
thumb-marks. 

"Noo,"  he  would  say  to  some  country  bejan,  "tak'thebuik 
i'  yer  ban's  no  as  gin  'twar  a  neip  (turnip),  but  as  gin  'twq-r 
the  sowl  o'  a  new-born  bairn.  Min'  ye  it  has  to  sair  {serve) 
mony  a  generation  efter  your  banes  lie  bare  i'  the  moul',  an' 
ye  maun  hae  respec'  to  them  that  come  efter  ye,  and  no  ill- 
guide  their  fare.     I  beg  ye  winna  guddle't  {mangle  it)  ^ 

The  bejans  used  to  laugh  at  him  in  consequence.  But  long 
before  they  were  magistrands,  the  best  of  them  bad  a  jn-ofound 
respect  for  the  librarian.     Not  a  few  of  them  repaired  to  hiiu 


414  ALEC   FORBES  OF    HOWGLEX. 

witli  all  their  difficulties ;  and  sucli  a  general  favourite  was  he, 
that  any  story  of  his  humour  or  oddity  was  sure  to  be  received 
with  a  roar  of  loving  laughter.  Indeed  I  doubt  whether, 
within  the  course  of  a  curriculum,  Mr  Cupples  had  not  become 
the  real  centre  of  intellectual  and  moral  life  in  that  college. 

One  evening,  as  he  and  Alec  were  sitting  together  specu- 
lating on  the  speediest  mode  of  turning  Alec's  acquirements  to 
money-account,  their  landlady  entered. 

"Here's  my  cousin,"  she  said,  "Captain  McTavish  o'  the 
Sea-horse,  Mr  Forbes,  wha  says  that  afore  lang  he'll  be  wantin' 
a  young  doctor  to  gang  and  baud  the  scurvy  aff  o'  his  men  at 
the  whaul-fishin'.  Sae  of  coorse  I  thoucht  o'  my  ain  first,  and 
ran  up  the  stair  to  you.  It'll  be  fifty  poun'  i'  yer  pooch,  and  a 
plenty  o'  roucli  ploys  that  the  like  o'  you  young  fallows  likes, 
though  I  canna  say  I  wad  like  sic  things  mysel'.  Only  I'm  an 
auld  wife,  ye  see,  and  that  maks  the  difier." 

"  Nae  that  auld,  Mistress  Leslie,"  said  Cupples,  "  gin  ye 
wadna  lee." 

"  Tell  Captain  McTavish  that  I'll  gang,"  said  Alec,  who  had 
hesitated  no  longer  than  the  time  Mr  Cupples  took  to  say  the 
word  of  kind  flattery  to  their  landlady. 
"  He'll  want  testimonials,  ye  ken." 
"  Wadna  ye  gie  me  ane,  Mrs  Leslie  ?  " 
"  'Deed  wad  I,  gin     'twar  o'  ony  accoont.     Ye  see,  Mr 
Alec,  the  day's  no  yesterday ;  and  this  session's  no  the  last." 

"  Hand  yer  tongue,  and  dinna  rub  a  sair  place,"  cried  ]Mr 
Cupples. 

"  I  beg  yer  pardon,"  returned  Mrs  Leslie,  submissively. 
Alec  followed  her  down  the  stair. 

He  soon  returned,  his  eyes  flashing  with  delight.  Adven- 
ture !     And  fifty  pounds  to  take  to  his  mother ! 

"  All  right,  Mr  Cupples.  The  Captain  has  promised  to 
take  me  if  my  testimonials  are  satisfiictory.  I  think  they  will 
give  me  good  ones  now.  If  it  weren't  for  you,  I  should  have 
been  lying  in  the  gutter  instead  of  walking  the  quarter-deck." 
"  Weel,  weel,  bantam.  There's  twa  sides  to  maist  obliga- 
tions.— I'm  leebrarian." 

The  reader  may  remember  that  in  his  boyhood  Alec  was 
fond  of  the  sea,  had  rigged  a  flagstafl",  and  had  built  the  Bonnie 
Annie.  He  was  nearly  beside  himself  with  delight,  which  con- 
tinued unjarred  until  he  heard  from  his  mother.  She  had  too 
much  good  sense  to  make  any  opposition,  but  she  could  not 
prevent  her  antici])ations  of  loss  and  loneliness  from  appearing. 
His  mother's  trouble  quelled  the  exuberance  of  Alec's  spirits 
without  altering  his  resolve.     He  would  return  to  her  in  the 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEIS'.  415 

fall  of  tlie  year,  bringing  with  him  what  would  ease  her  mind 
of  half  its  load. 

There  was  no  check  at  the  examinations  this  session. 


CHAPTEE  LXXXVII. 


Mrs  Forbes  was  greatly  perplexed  about  Annie.  She 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  turning  her  out ;  and  besides 
she  did  not  see  where  she  was  to  go,  for  she  could  not  be  in 
the  house  with  young  Bruce.  On  the  other  hand,  she  had 
still  the  same  danijerous  sense  of  worldly  duty  as  to  the  pre- 
vention of  a  so-called  unsuitable  match,  the  chance  of  which 
was  more  threatening  than  ever.  For  Annie  had  grown  very 
lovely,  and  having  taken  captive  the  affections  of  the  mother, 
must  put  the  heart  of  the  son  in  dire  jeopardy.  But  Alee 
arrived  two  days  before  he  was  expected,  and  delivered  his 
mother  from  her  perplexity  by  declarixig  that  if  Annie  were 
sent  away  he  too  would  leave  the  house.  He  had  seen 
through  the  maternal  precautions  the  last  time  he  was  at 
home,  and  talking  with  Cupples  about  it,  who  secretly  wished 
for  no  better  luck  than  that  Alec  should  fall  in  love  with 
Annie,  had  his  feelings  strengthened  as  to  the  unkindness,  if 
not  injustice,  of  throwing  her  periodically  into  such  a  dun- 
geon as  the  society  of  the  Bruces.  So  Annie  remained  where 
she  was,  much,  I  must  confess,  to  her  inward  content. 

The  youth  and  the  maiden  met  every  day — the  youth  un- 
embarrassed, and  the  maiden  reserved  and  shy,  even  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  mother.  But  if  Alec  could  have  seen  the 
loving  thoughts  which,  like  threads  of  heavenly  gold  (for  all 
the  gold  of  heaven  is  invisible),  wrought  themselves  into  the 
garments  she  made  for  him,  I  do  not  think  lie  could  have 
helped  falling  in  love  with  her,  although  most  men,  I  fear, 
would  only  have  fallen  the  more  in  love  with  themselves,  and 
eared  the  less  for  her.  But  he  did  not  see  them,  or  hear  the 
divine  measures  to  which  her  needle  flew,  as  she  laboured  to 
arm  him  against  the  cold  of  those  regions 

Where  all  life  dies,  death  lives,  and  nature  breeds, 
Perverse,  all  monstrous,  all  prodigious  things. 

Alec's  college-life  had  interposed  a  gulf  between  him  and 
his  previous  history.  But  his  approaching  departure  into 
places  unknown  and  a  life  untried,  operated  upon  his  spiritual 


416  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

condition  like  the  approach  of  death  ;  and  he  must  strengthen 
again  all  the  old  bonds  which  had  been  stretched  thin  by  time 
and  absence ;  he  must  make  righteous  atonement  for  the 
wrong  of  neglect ;  in  short,  he  must  set  his  inward  house  in 
order,  ere  he  went  forth  to  the  abodes  of  ice.  Death  is  not  a 
breaker  but  a  renewer  of  ties.  And  if  in  view  of  death  we 
gird  up  the  loins  of  our  minds,  and  unite  our  hearts  into  a 
whole  of  love,  and  tenderness,  and  atonement,  and  forgive- 
ness, then  Death  himself  cannot  be  that  thing  of  forlornness 
and  loss. 

He  took  a  day  to  go  and  see  Curly,  and  spent  a  pleasant 
afternoon  with  him,  recalling  the  o]d  times,  and  the  old 
stories,  and  the  old  companions ;  for  the  youth  with  the 
downy  chin  has  a  past  as  ancient  as  that  of  the  man  with  the 
gray  beard.  And  Curly  told  him  the  story  of  his  encounter 
with  young  Bruce  on  the  bank  of  the  Wan  Water.  And 
over  and  over  again  Annie's  name  came  up,  but  Curly  never 
hinted  at  her  secret. 

The  next  evening  he  went  to  see  Thomas  Craun.  Thomas 
received  him  with  a  cordiality  amounting  even  to  gruff  ten- 
derness. 

"  I'm  richt  glaid  to  see  ye,"  he  said ;  "  and  I  tak'  it  verra 
kin'  o'  ye,  wi'  a'  yer  gran'  learnin',  to  come  and  see  an  ig- 
norant man  like  me.  But  Alec,  my  man,  there's  some  things 
'at  I  ken  better  nor  ye  ken  them  yet.  Him  that  made  the 
whauls  is  better  worth  seekin'  nor  the  whauls  themsel's. 
Grod's  works  may  swallow  the  man  that  follows  them,  but  God 
himsel'  's  the  hidin'-place  frae  the  wind,  and  the  covert  frae 
the  tempest.  Set  na  uj>  nae  fause  God — that's  the  thing  'at 
ye  lo'e  best,  ye  ken — for  like  Dawgon,  it'll  fa',  and  maybe  brain 
ye  i'  the  fa'.  Come  doon  upo'  yer  knees  wi'  me,  and  I'll  pray 
for  ye.  But  ye  maun  pray  for  yersel',  or  my  prayers  winna 
be  o'  muckle  avail :  ye  ken  that." 

Yielding  to  the  spiritual  power  of  Thomas,  whose  gray- 
blue  eyes  were  flashing  with  fervour,  Alec  kneeled  down  as  he 
was  desired,  and  Thomas  said : 

"  O  thou  who  madest  the  whales  to  play  i'  the  great  wat- 
ters,  and  gavest  vmto  men  sic  a  need  o'  licht  that  they  maun 
hunt  the  leviathan  to  baud  their  lamps  burnin'  at  nicht  whan 
thou  hast  sent  thy  sun  awa'  to  ither  lands,  bo  thou  roon'  aboot 
this  youth,  wha  surely  is  nae  muckle  waur  than  him  'at  the 
Saviour  lo'ed ;  and  when  thou  seest  his  ship  gang  sailin'  into 
the  far  north  whaur  thou  keepest  thy  stores  o'  frost  and  snaw 
ready  to  remin'  men  o'  thy  goodness  by  takin'  the  heat  frae 
them  for  a  sizzon — when  thou  seest  his  ship  gaein  far  north, 


ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  417 

pit  doon  tliy  finger,  O  Lord,  and  straik  a  track  afore't,  tlirou' 
amo'  the  tills  o'  ice,  that  it  may  gang  throu'  in  saf-ety,  even  as 
thy  chosen  people  gaed  throu'  the  Eeid  Sea,  and  the  river  o' 
Jordan.  For,  Lord,  we  want  him  hame  again  in  thy  good 
time.  For  he  is  the  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  is  a 
widow.  But  aboon  a',  0  Lord,  elec'  him  to  thy  grace  and  lat 
him  ken  the  glory  o'  God,  even  the  licht  o'  thy  coontenance. 
Por  me,  I'm  a'  thine,  to  live  or  dee,  and  I  care  not  Avliich.  For 
I  hae  gotten  the  gueed  o'  this  warl' ;  and  gin  I  binna  ready 
for  the  neist,  it's  because  o'  my  sins,  and  no  o'  my  savours. 
For  I  wad  glaidle  depairt  and  be  with  the  Lord.  But  this 
young  man  has  never  seen  thy  face ;  and,  0  Lord,  I'm  jist 
feared  that  my  coontenance  micht  fa'  even  in  thy  kingdom, 
gin  I  kent  that  Alec  Forbes  was  doon  i'  the  ill  place.  Spare 
him,  0  Lord,  and  gie  him  time  for  repentance  gin  he  has  a 
chance ;  but  gin  he  has  nane,  tak'  him  at  ance,  that  his  doom 
may  be  the  lichter." 

Alec  rose  with  a  very  serious  face,  and  went  home  to  his 
mother  in  a  mood  more  concordant  with  her  feelings  than  the 
light-hearteduess  with  which  he  generally  tried  to  laugh  away 
her  apprehensions. 

He  even  called  on  Robert  Bruce,  at  his  mother's  request. 
It  went  terribly  against  the  grain  with  him  though.  He  eX" 
pected  to  find  him  rude  as  of  old,  but  he  was,  on  the  contrary, 
as  pleasant  as  a  man  could  be  whose  only  notion  of  politeness 
lay  in  licMng. 

His  civility  came  from  two  sources — the  one  hope,  the 
other  fear.  Alec  was  going  away  and  might  never  return. 
That  was  the  hope.  For  although  Bruce  had  spread  the  report 
of  Annie's  engagement  to  Curly,  he  believed  that  Alec  was 
the  real  obstacle  to  his  plans.  At  the  same  time  he  was 
afraid  of  him,  believing  in  his  cowardly  mind  that  Alec  would 
not  stop  short  of  personal  reprisals  if  he  should  oftend  him ; 
and  now  he  was  a  great  six-foot  fellow,  of  whose  prowess  at 
college  confused  and  exaggerated  stories  were  floating  about 
the  town. — Bruce  was  a  man  who  could  hatch  and  cherish 
plans,  keeping  one  in  reserve  behind  the  other,  and  beholding 
their  result  from  afar. 

"  Ay!  ay!  Mr  Forbes — sae  ye're  gaun  awa'  amo'  the  train- 
ile,  are  ye?     Hae  ye  ony  share  i'  the  tak'  no  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  the  doctor  has  any  share,"  answered  Alec. 

"  But  I  w  arran'  ye'll  put  to  yer  han',  and  help  at  the 
cat  chin'." 

"  Very  likely." 

"  Weel,  gin  ye  come  in  for  a  barrel  or  twa,  ve  may  coont 
27 


418  ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEX. 

upo'  me  to  tak  it  aff  yer  han',  at  tlie  ordinar'  price — to  the 
wliolesale  merchan's,  ye  ken — wi'  maybe  a  sma'  discoont  for 
orderin'  't  afore  the  whaul  was  ta'en." 

The  day  drew  near.  He  had  bidden  all  his  friends  fare- 
well. He  must  go  just  as  the  spring  was  coming  in  with  the 
old  well-beloved  green  borne  before  her  on  the  white  banner 
of  the  snowdrop,  and  following  in  miles  of  jubilation :  he 
must  not  wait  for  her  triumph,  but  speed  away  before  her  to- 
wards the  dreary  north,  which  only  a  few  of  her  hard-riding 
pursuivants  would  ever  reach.  Por  green  hills  he  must  have 
opal-hued  bergs — for  green  fields  the  outspread  slaty  waters, 
rolling  in  the  delight  of  their  few  weeks  of  glorious  freedom, 
and  mocking  the  unwieldy  ice-giants  that  rush  in  wind-driveu 
troops  across  their  plains,  or  welter  captive  in  the  weary 
swell,  and  melt  away  beneath  the  low  summer  sun. 

His  mother  would  have  gone  to  see  him  on  board,  but  he 
prevailed  upon  her  to  say  good-bye  to  him  at  home.  She 
kept  her  tears  till  after  he  was  gone.  Annie  bade  him  fare- 
well with  a  pale  face,  and  a  smile  that  was  all  sweetness  and 
no  gladness.  She  did  not  weep  even  afterwards.  A  gentle 
cold  hand  pressed  her  heart  down,  so  that  neither  blood 
reached  her  face  nor  water  her  eyes.  She  went  about  every- 
thing just  as  before,  because  it  had  to  be  done  ;  but  it  seemed 
foolish  to  do  anything.  The  spring  might  as  well  stay  away 
for  any  good  that  it  promised  either  of  them. 

*As  Mr  Cupples  was  taking  his  farewell  on  board, 

"  Te'll  gang  and  see  my  mother  ?  "  said  Alec. 

"  Ay,  ay,  bantam ;  I'll  do  that. — Noo  tak  care  o'  yersel  ; 
and  dinna  tak  leeberties  wi'  behemoth.  Put  a  ring  in's  nose 
gin  ye  like,  only  haud  oot  ower  frae's  tail.  He's  no  mowse 
{not  to  he  meddled  with).'' 

So  away  went  Alec  northwards,  over  the  blue-gray  waters, 
surgeon  of  the  strong  barque  Sea-horse. 


CHAPTER  LXXXVIII. 


Two  days  after  Alec's  departure,  Mr  Bruce  called  at  How- 
glen  to  see  Annie. 

"  Hoo  are  ye.  Mistress  Forbes?  Hoo  are  ye,  Miss  Ander- 
son ?  I  was  jist  comin'  ower  the  watter  for  a  walk,  and  I  thocht 
I  micht  as  weel  fess  the  bit  siller  wi'  me  that  I'm  awin  ye." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  419 

Annie  stared.  She  did  not  know  what  he  meant.  He 
explained. 

"  It's  weel  on  till  a  towmon  (twelvemontli)  that  ye  haehad 
neither  bite  nor  sup  aneath  my  heumble  riggin-tree  (roof tree), 
and  as  that  was  the  upmak  for  the  interest,  I  maun  pay  ye 
the  tane  seein'  ye  winna  accep'  o'  the  tither.  I  hae  jist 
brocht  ye  ten  poun'  to  pit  i'  yer  ain  pooch  i'  the  mean- 
time." 

Annie  could  hardly  believe  her  ears.  Could  she  be  the 
rightful  owner  of  such  untold  wealth  ?  Without  giving  her 
time  to  say  anything,  however,  Bruce  went  on,  still  holding 
in  his  hand  the  dirty  bunch  of  one-pound  notes. 

"  But  I'm  thinkin'  the  best  way  o'  disposin'  o'  't  wad  be 
to  lat  me  put  it  to  the  lave  o'  the  prencipal.  Sae  I'll  jist  tak 
it  to  the  bank  as  I  gang  back.  I  canna  gie  ye  onything  for 
't,  'cause  that  wad  be  brakin'  the  law  against  compoon  in- 
terest, but  I  can  mak'  it  up  some  ither  gait,  ye  ken." 

But  Annie  had  been  too  much  pleased  at  the  prospect  of 
possession  to  let  the  money  go  so  easily. 

"  I  hae  plenty  o'  ways  o'  spen'iu'  't,"  she  said,  "  withoot 
wastry.  Sae  I'll  jist  tak'  it  mysel',  and  thank  ye,  Mr 
Bruce." 

She  rose  and  took  the  notes  from  Bruce's  unwilling  hand. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  replacing  them  in  his  trowsers-pocket 
and  refusing  to  give  them  up,  when  her  promptitude  rescued 
them.  Discomfiture  was  manifest  in  his  reluctant  eyes,  and 
the  little  tug  of  retraction  with  which  he  loosed  his  hold 
upon  the  notes.  He  went  home  mortified,  and  poverty- 
stricken,  but  yet  having  gained  a  step  towards  a  further  end. 

Annie  begged  Mrs  Forbes  to  take  the  money. 

"  I  have  no  use  for  it,  ma'am.  An  old  gown  of  yours 
makes  as  good  a  frock  for  me  as  I  can  ever  want  to  have." 

But  Mrs  Forbes  would  not  even  take  charge  of  the  money 
— partly  from  the  pride  of  beneficence,  partly  from  the  fear  of 
involving  it  in  her  own  straits.  So  that  Annie,  having  pro- 
vided herself  with  a  few  necessaries,  felt  free  to  spend  the 
rest  as  she  would.  How  she  longed  for  Tibbie  Dyster !  But 
not  having  her,  she  went  to  Thomas  Crann,  and  ofiered  the 
money  to  him. 

"  'Deed  no,  lassie !  I  winna  lay  a  finger  upo'  't.  Lay't 
by  till  ye  want  it  yersel'." 

"  Dinna  ye  ken  somebody  that  wants't  mair  nor  me, 
Thomas  ?  " 

Now  Thomas  had  just  been  reading  a  few  words  spoken, 
according  to  Matthew,  the  tax-gatherer,  by  the  King  of  Men, 


420  ALEC   FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN. 

declaring  the  perfection  of  God  to  consist  in  His  giving  good 
things  to  all  alike,  whether  they  love  him  or  not.  And  when 
Annie  asked  the  question,  he  remembered  the  passage  and 
Peter  Peterson  together.  But  he  could  not  trust  her  to 
follow  her  own  instincts,  and  therefore  went  with  her  to  see 
the  poor  fellow,  who  was  in  a  consumption,  and  would  never 
drink  any  more.  When  he  saw  his  worn  face,  and  the  bones 
with  hands  at  the  ends  of  them,  his  heart  smote  him  that  he 
had  ever  been  harsh  to  him ;  and  although  he  had  gone  with 
the  intention  of  rousing  him  to  a  sense  of  his  danger  beyond 
the  grave,  he  found  that  for  very  pity  he  could  not  open  the 
prophetic  mouth.  From  self-accusation  he  took  shelter  be- 
hind Annie,  saying  to  himself:  "Babes  can  best  declare 
what's  best  revealed  to  them  ;  "  and  left  Peter  to  her  minis- 
trations. 

A  little  money  went  far  to  make  his  last  days  comfortable  ; 
and  ere  she  had  been  visiting  him  for  more  than  a  month,  he 
loved  her  so  that  he  was  able  to  believe  that  God  might  love 
him,  though  he  knew  perfectly  (wherein  perhaps  his  drunken- 
ness had  taught  him  more  than  the  prayers  of  many  a  phari- 
see)  that  he  could  not  deserve  it. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  relation  between  Annie 
and  the  poor  of  Glamerton.  And  the  soul  of  the  maiden  grew 
and  blossomed  into  divine  tenderness,  for  it  was  still  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.  But  she  was  only  allowed 
to  taste  of  this  blessedness,  for  she  had  soon  to  learn  that 
even  giving  itself  must  be  given  away  cheerfully. 

After  three  months  Bruce  called  again  with  the  quarter's 
interest.  Before  the  next  period  arrived  he  had  an  interview 
with  James  Dow,  to  whom  he  represented  that,  as  he  was  now 
paying  the  interest  down  in  cash,  he  ought  not  to  be  exposed 
to  the  inconvenience  of  being  called  upon  at  any  moment  to 
restore  the  principal,  but  should  have  the  money  secured  to 
him  for  ten  years.  After  consultation,  James  Dow  consented 
to  a  three  years'  loan,  beyond  which  he  would  not  yield. 
Papers  to  this  effect  were  signed,  and  one  quarter's  interest 
more  was  placed  in  Annie's  willing  hand. 

In  the  middle  of  summer  Mr  Cupples  made  his  appearance, 
and  was  warmly  welcomed.  He  had  at  length  com])leted  the 
catalogue  of  the  library,  had  got  the  books  arranged  to  his 
mind,  and  was  brimful  of  enjoyment.  He  ran  about  the  fields 
like  a  child  ;  gathered  bunches  of  white  clover;  made  a  great 
kite,  and  bought  an  unmeasureable  length  of  string,  with 
which  he  flew  it  the  first  day  the  wind  was  worthy  of  the 
honour;    got   out   Alec's   boat,   and   upset   himself  in   the 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  421 

Glamour  ;  was  run  away  witli  by  one  of  the  plough -horses  in 
llie  attempt  to  ride  him  to  the  water ;  was  laughed  at  and 
loved  by  everybody  about  Howglen.  At  length,  that  is,  in 
about  ten  days,  he  began  to  settle  down  into  sobriety  of 
demeanour.  The  first  thing  that  sobered  him  was  a  hint  of 
yellow  upon  a  field  of  oats.  He  began  at  once  to  go  and  see 
the  people  of  Grlamerton,  and  called  upon  Thomas  Crann 
first. 

He  found  him  in  one  of  his  gloomy  moods,  which  however 
were  much  less  frequent  than  they  had  been. 

"  Hoo  are  ye,  auld  frien'  ?"  said  Cupples. 

"  Auld  as  ye  say,  sir,  and  nae  muckle  farrer  on  nor  whan  I 
begud.  I  whiles  think  I  hae  profited  less  than  onybody  I  ken. 
But  eh,  sir,  I  wad  be  sorry,  gin  I  was  you,  to  dee  afore  I  had 
gotten  a  glimp  o'  the  face  o'  God." 

"  Hoo  ken  ye  that  I  haena  gotten  a  glimp  o'  that  same  ?" 

"  Te  wad  luik  mair  solemn  like,"  answered  Thomas. 

■'  Maybe  I  wad,"  responded  Cupples,  seriously. 

"  Man,  strive  to  get  it.  Gie  Him  no  rist,  day  nor  nicht,  till 
ye  get  it.     Knock,  knock,  knock,  till  it  be  opened  till  ye." 

"  Weel,  Thomas,  ye  dinna  seem  sae  happy  yersel',  efter  a'. 
Dinna  ye  think  ye  may  be  like  ane  that's  tryin'  to  see  the  face 
o'  whilk  ye  speyk  throu  a  crack  i'  the  door,  in  place  o'  haein 
patience  till  it's  opened?" 

But  the  suggestion  was  quite  lost  upon  Thomas,  who,  after 
a  gloomy  pause,  went  on, 

"  Sin's  sic  an  awfu'  thing,"  he  began  ;  when  the  door  opened, 
and  in  walked  James  Dow. 

His  entrance  did  not  interrupt  Thomas,  however. 

"  Sin's  sic  an  awfu'  thing !  And  I  hae  sinned  sae  aften 
and  sae  lang,  that  maybe  He'll  be  forced  efter  a'  to  sen'  me  to 
the  bottomless  pit." 

"  Hoot,  hoot,  Thamas  !  dinna  speyk  sic  awfu'  things,"  said 
Dow.  "They're  dreadfu'  to  hearken  tilL  I  s'  warran'  He's 
as  kin'-hertit  as  yersel." 

James  had  no  reputation  for  piety,  though  much  for  truth- 
fulness and  honesty.  Nor  had  he  any  idea  how  much  lay  in 
the  words  he  had  hastily  uttered.  A  light-gleam  grew  and 
faded  on  Thomas's  face. 

"  I  said,  he  micht  "he  forced  to  sen'  me  efter  a'." 

""What,  Thomas!"  cried  Cupples.  "He  cudna  save  ye! 
"Wi'  the  Son  and  the  Speerit  to  help  him  ?  And  a  willin'  hert 
in  you  forbye  ?  Fegs  !  ye  hae  a  greater  opinion  o'  Sawtan  nor 
I  gied  ye  the  discredit  o'." 

"  !N^a,  na ;  it's  nae  Sawtan.     It's  mysel'.     I  wadua  lay  mair 


422  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

wyte  (blame)  iipo'  Sawtan's  shouthers  nor's  his  ain.     He  lias 
eneuch  already,  puir  fallow  !" 

"  Ye' 11  be  o'  auld  Eobbie  Burns's  opinion,  that  he  '  aiblins 
micht  still  hae  a  stake.'  " 

"Na,  na  ;  he  has  nane.     Burns  was  nae  prophet." 

"  But  jist  suppose,  Thomas — gin  the  de'il  war  to  repent." 

"  Man  !"  exclaimed  the  stonemason,  rising  to  his  full  height 
with  slow  labour  after  the  day's  toil,  "  it  wad  be  cruel  to  gar 
Mm  repent.  It  wad  be  ower  sair  upon  him.  Better  kill  him. 
The  bitterness  o'  sic  repentance  wad  be  ower  terrible.  It  wad 
be  mair  nor  he  cud  bide.  It  wad  brak  his  hert  a'thegither. — 
jSTa,  na,  he  has  nae  chance." 

The  last  sentence  was  spoken  quickly  and  with  attempted 
carelessness  as  he  resumed  his  seat. 
-.    "  Hoo  ken  ye  that  ?  "  asked  Cupples. 

"  There's  no  sic  word  i'  the  Scriptur'." 

"  Do  ye  think  He  maun  tell  us  a'  thing  ?  " 

"  AVe  hae  nae  richt  to  think  onything  that  He  doesna 
tell's." 

"  I'm  nae  sae  sure  o'  that,  Thomas.  Maybe,  whiles,  he 
doesna  tell's  a  thing  jist  to  gar's  think  aboot  it,  and  be  ready 
for  the  time  whan  he  will  tell's." 

Thomas  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then  with  a  smile 
— rather  a  grim  one — he  said, 

"  Here's  a  curious  thing,  no. — There's  neyther  o'  you  con- 
vertit,  and  yet  yer  words  strenthen  my  hert  as  gin  they  cam 
frae  the  airt  (regioii)  aboon." 

But  his  countenance  changed,  and  he  added  hastily, 

"  It's  a  mark  o'  indwellin'  sin.  To  the  law  and  to  the  testi- 
mony— Gang  awa'  and  lat  me  to  my  prayers." 

They  obeyed ;  for  either  they  felt  that  nothing  but  his 
prayers  would  do,  or  they  were  awed,  and  dared  not  remain. 

Mr  Cupples  could  wait.     Thomas  could  not. 

The  Forlorn  Hope  of  men  must  storm  the  walls  of  Heaven. 

Amongst  those  who  sit  down  at  the  gate  till  one  shall  come 
and  open  it,  are  to  be  found  both  the  wise  and  the  careless 
children. 


CHAPTER  LXXXIX. 


Mil  Cupples  returned  to  his  work,  for  the  catalogue  had 
to  be  printed. 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  423 

The  weeks  and  months  passed  on,  and  the  time  drew  nigh 
when  it  would  be  no  folly  to  watch  the  mail-coach  in  its  pride 
of  scarlet  and  gold,  as  possibly  bearing  the  welcome  letter  an- 
nouncing Alec's  return.  At  length,  one  morning,  Mrs  Forbes 
said : 

"  "We  may  look  for  him  every  day  now,  Annie." 

She  did  not  know  with  what  a  tender  echo  her  words  went 
roaming  about  in  Annie's  bosom,  awaking  a  thousand  thought- 
birds  in  the  twilight  land  of  memory,  which  had  tucked  their 
heads  under  their  wings  to  sleep,  and  thereby  to  live. 

But  the  days  went  on  and  the  hope  was  deferred.  The 
rush  of  the  Sea-horse  did  not  trouble  the  sands  of  the  shallow 
bar,  or  sweep,  with  fiercely  ramping  figure-head,  past  the  long 
pier-spike,  stretching  like  the  hand  of  welcome  from  the  hospit- 
able shore.  While  they  fancied  her  full-breasted  sails,  swelled 
as  with  sighs  for  home,  bowing  lordly  over  the  submissive 
waters,  the  Sea-Jiorse  lay  a  frozen  mass,  changed  by  the  might 
of  the  winds  and  the  snow  and  the  frost  into  the  grotesque 
ice-gaunt  phantom  of  a  ship,  through  which,  the  winter  long, 
the  winds  would  go  whistling  and  raving,  crowding  upon  it  the 
snow  and  the  crystal  icicles,  all  in  the  wild  waste  of  the  desert 
north,  "ttdth  no  ear  to  hear  the  sadness,  and  no  eye  to  behold 
the  deathly  beauty. 

At  length  the  hope  deferred  began  to  make  the  heart  sick. 
-  Dim  anxiety  passed  into  vague  fear,  and  then  deepened  into 
dull  conviction,  over  which  ever  and  anon  flickered  a  pale 
ghostly  hope,  like  the  fatuiis  over  the  swamp  that  has  swallowed 
the  unwary  wanderer.  Each  would  find  the  other  wistfully 
watching  to  read  any  thought  that  might  have  escaped  the 
vigilance  of  its  keeper,  and  come  up  from  the  dungeon  of  the 
heart  to  air  itself  on  the  terraces  of  the  face ;  and  each  would 
drop  the  glance  hurriedly,  as  if  caught  in  a  fault.  But  the 
moment  came  when  their  meeting  eyes  were  fixed  and  they 
burst  into  tears,  each  accepting  the  other's  confession  of  hope- 
less grief  as  the  seal  and  doom. 

I  will  not  follow  them  through  the  slow  shadows  of  gather- 
ing fate.  I  will  not  record  the  fancies  that  tormented  them, 
or  describe  the  blank  that  fell  upon  the  duties  of  the  day.  I 
will  not  tell  how,  as  the  winter  drew  on,  they  heard  his  voice 
calling  in  the  storm  for  help,  or  how  through  the  snow-drifts 
they  saw  him  plodding  wearily  home.  His  mother  forgot  her 
debt,  and  ceased  to  care  what  became  of  herself.  Annie's 
anxiety  settled  into  an  earnest  prayer  that  she  might  not  rebel 
against  the  will  of  God. 

But  the  anxiety  of  Thomas  Crann  was  not  limited  to  the 


424  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

earthly  fate  of  the  lad.  It  extended  to  his  fate  in  the  other 
world — too  probably,  in  his  eyes,  that  endless,  yearless,  im- 
diWded  fate,  wherein  the  breath  still  breathed  into  the  soul  of 
man  by  his  Maker  is  no  longer  the  breath  of  life,  but  the  breath 
of  infinite  death — 

Sole  Positive  of  Night, 
Antipathist  of  Light, 

giving  to  the  ideal  darkness  a  real  and  individual  hypostasis  in 
helpless  humanity,  keeping  men  alive  that  the  light  in  them 
may  continue  to  be  darkness. 

Terrible  were  his  agonies  in  wrestling  wdth  God  for  the  life 
of  the  lad,  and  terrible  his  fear  lest  his  own  faith  should  fail 
him  if  his  prayers  should  not  be  heard.  Alec  Forbes  was  to 
Thomas  Crann  as  it  were  the  representative  of  all  his  unsaved 
brothers  and  sisters  of  the  human  race,  for  whose  sakes  he,  like 
the  apostle  Paul,  would  have  gladly  undergone  what  he  dreaded 
for  them.  He  went  to  see  his  mother ;  said  "  Hoo  are  ye, 
mem  ?"  sat  down  ;  never  opened  his  lips,  except  to  utter  a  few 
commonplaces ;  rose  and  left  her — a  little  comforted.  Xor 
can  anything  but  human  sympathy  alleviate  the  pain  while  it 
obscures  not  the  presence  of  human  grief.  Do  not  remind  me 
that  the  divine  is  better.  I  know^  it.  But  why  ?— Because 
the  divine  is  the  highest — the  creative  human.  The  sympathy 
of  the  Lord  himself  is  the  more  human  that  it  is  divine. 

And  in  Annie's  face,  as  she  ministered  to  her  friend,  shone, 
notwithstanding  her  full  share  in  the  sorrow,  a  light  that  came 
not  from  sun  or  stars — as  it  w'ere  a  suppressed,  waiting  light. 
And  Mrs  Forbes  felt  the  holy  influences  that  proceeded  both 
from  her  and  from  Thomas  Crann. 

How  much  easier  it  is  to  bear  a  trouble  that  comes  upon  a 
trouble  than  one  that  intrudes  a  death's  head  into  the  midst  of 
a  merry-making !  Mrs  Forbes  scarcely  felt  it  a  trouble  when 
she  received  a  note  from  Eobert  Bruce  informing  her  that,  as 
he  was  on  the  point  of  removing  to  another  place  which  ofiered 
great  advantages  for  the  employment  of  the  little  money  he 
possessed,  he  would  be  obliged  to  her  to  pay  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble the  hundred  pounds  she  owed  him,  along  with  certain  ar- 
rears of  interest  specified.  She  wrote  that  it  was  impossible 
for  her  at  present,  and  forgot  the  whole  aff'air.  But  within 
three  days  she  received  a  formal  application  for  the  debt  from 
a  new  solicitor.  To  this  she  paid  no  attention,  just  wondering 
what  would  come  next.  After  about  three  months  a  second 
application  was  made,  according  to  legal  form ;  and  in  the 
month  of  May  a  third  arrived,  with  the  hint  from  the  lawyer 


ALEC    FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  425 

that  Ilia  client  was  now  prepared  to  proceed  to  extremities ; 
whereupon  she  felt  for  the  first  time  that  she  must  do  some- 
thing. 

She  sent  for  James  Dow. 

"Are  you  going  to  the  market  to-day,  James  ?"  she  asked. 

"  'Deed  am  I,  mem." 

"  Well,  be  sure  and  go  into  one  of  the  tents,  and  have  a 
good  dinner." 

"  'Deed,  mem,  I'll  do  naething  o'  the  sort.  It's  a  sin  and 
a  shame  to  waste  gude  siller  upo'  broth  an'  beef.  I'll  jist  pit 
a  piece  {of  oatcake)  in  my  pooch,  and  that'll  fess  me  hame  as 
well's  a'  their  kail.     I  can  bide  onythiug  but  wastrie." 

"  It's  very  foolisb  of  you,  James." 

"  It's  yer  pleesur  to  say  sae,  mem." 

"  Well,  tell  me  what  to  do  about  that." 

And  she  handed  him  the  letter. 

James  took  it  and  read  it  slowly.  Then  he  stared  at  his 
mistress.  Then  he  read  it  again.  At  length,  with  a  bewildered 
look,  he  said, 

"  Gin  ye  awe  the  siller,  ye  maun  pay't,  mem." 

"  But  i  can't." 

"The  Lord  preserve's!  What's  to  be  dune?  I  hae  bit 
thirty  poun'  hained  (saved)  up  i'  my  kist.  That  wadna  gang 
far." 

"  No,  no,  James,"  returned  bis  mistress.  "  I  am  not  going 
to  take  your  money  to  pay  Mr  Bruce." 

"  He's  an  awfu'  cratur  that,  mem.  He  wad  tak  tbe  win'in' 
sheet  aif  o'  the  deid." 

"  Well,  I  must  see  what  can  be  done.  I'll  go  and  consult 
Mr  Gibb." 

James  took  his  leave,  dejected  on  his  mistress's  account,  and 
on  his  own.     As  he  went  out,  he  met  Annie. 

"  Eh,  Annie  !  "  he  said  5  "  this  is  awfu'." 

"  What's  the  matter,  Dooie  ?  " 

"  That  schochlin'  {waddling,  mean)  cratur,  Bruce,  is  mintin' 
{threatening)  at  roupin'  the  mistress  for  a  wheen  siller  she's 
aucht  him." 

"  He  daurna  !  "  exclaimed  Annie. 

"  He'll  daur  onything  but  tyne  {Jose)  siller.  Eh  !  lassie, 
gin  we  hadna  len'  't  him  yours !  " 

"  I'll  gang  till  him  direcly.  But  dinna  tell  the  mistress. 
She  wadna  like  it." 

"  Na,  na.  I  s'  baud  my  tongue,  I  s'  warran'. — Ye're  the 
best  cratur  ever  was  born.  She'll  maybe  perswaud  the  ill- 
faured  tyke  {dog)." 


426  ALEO    FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

Murmuring  the  last  two  sentences  to  himself,  he  walked  away. 

"When  Annie  entered  Bruce's  shop,  the  big  spider  was  un- 
occupied, and  ready  to  devour  her.  He  put  on  therefore  his 
most  gracious  reception. 

"  Hoo  are  ye.  Miss  Anderson  ?  I'm  glaid  to  see  ye. 
Come  benn  the  hoose." 

"  No,  I  thank  ye.  I  want  to  speak  to  yersel',  Mr  Bruce. 
"What's  a'  this  aboot  Mrs  Forbes  and  you  ?  " 

"  Grrit  fowk  maunna  ride  ower  the  tap  o'  puir  fowk  like 
me,  Miss  Anderson." 

"  She's  a  widow,  Mr  Bruce  " — Annie  could  not  add  "  and 
childless  " — "  and  lays  nae  claim  to  be  great  fowk.  It's  no  a 
Christian  way  o'  treatin'  her." 

"  Fowk  maun  hae  their  ain.  It's  mine,  and  I  maun  hae't. 
There's  naething  agen  that  i'  the  ten  tables.  There's  nae 
gospel  for  no  giein'  fowk  their  ain.  I'm  nae  a  missionar  noo. 
1  dinna  haud  wi'  sic  things.  I  canna  beggar  my  faimily  to 
hand  up  her  muckle  hoose.     She  maun  pay  me,  or  I'll  tak'  it." 

"  Gin  ye  do,  Mr  Bruce,  ye  s'  no  hae  my  siller  ae  minute 
efter  the  time's  up  ;  and  I'm  sorry  ye  hae't  till  than." 

"  That's  neither  here  nor  there.  Te  wad  be  wantin'  't  or 
that  time  ony  hoo." 

Now  Bruce  had  given  up  the  notion  of  leaving  Grlamerton, 
for  he  had  found  that  the  patronage  of  the  missionars  in 
grocery  was  not  essential  to  a  certain  measure  of  success  ;  and 
he  had  no  intention  of  proceeding  to  an  auction  of  Mrs 
Forbes's  goods,  for  he  saw  that  would  put  him  in  a  worse 
position  with  the  public  than  any  amount  of  quiet  practice  in 
lying  and  stealing.  But  there  was  every  likelihood  of  Annie's 
being  married  some  day ;  and  then  her  money  would  be  re- 
called, and  he  would  be  left  without  the  capital  necessary  for 
carrying  on  his  business  upon  the  same  enlarged  scale — seeing 
he  now  supplied  many  of  the  little  country  shops.  It  would 
be  a  grand  move  then,  if,  by  a  far-sighted  generalship,  a  care- 
ful copying  of  the  example  of  his  great  ancestor,  he  could  get 
a  permanent  hold  of  some  of  Annie's  property. — Hence  had 
come  the  descent  upon  Mrs  Forbes,  and  here  came  its  success. 

"  Te  s'  hae  as  muckle  o'  mine  to  yer  nainscl'  as'll  clear 
Mrs  Forbes,"  said  Annie. 

"  Week  Verra  week — But  ye  see  that's  mine  for  twa 
year  and  a  half  ony  gait.  That  wad  only  amunt  to  losin'  her 
interest  for  twa  year  ah'  a  half — a'thegither.     That  wiuna  do." 

"  What  will  do,  than,  Mr  Bruce  ?  " 

"  I  diuna  ken.     I  want  my  ain." 

"  But  ye  maunna  torment  her,  Mr  Bruce.     Te  ken  that." 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOVvGLEN.  427 

"  "Weel !  I'm  open  to  onything  rizzonable.  There's  the 
enterest  for  twa  an'  a  half — ca'  't  three  years — at  what  I 
could  mak'  o'  't — say  aucht  per  cent — four  and  twenty  poun'. 
Syne  there's  her  arrears  o'  interest — and  syne  there's  the  loss 
o'  the  ower-turn — and  syne  there's  the  loss  o'  the  siller  that 
ye  winna  hae  to  len'  me. — Grin  ye  gie  me  a  quittance  for  a 
hunner  an'  fifty  poun',  I'll  gie  her  a  receipt. — It'll  be  a  sair 
loss  to  me !  " 

"  Onything  ye  like,"  said  Annie. 

And  Bruce  brought  out  papers  already  written  by  his  law- 
yer, one  of  which  he  signed  and  the  other  she. 

"  Ye'll  min',"  he  added,  as  she  was  leaving  the  shop,  "  that 
I  hae  to  pay  ye  no  interest  noo  excep'  upo'  fifty  poun'  ?  " 

He  had  paid  her  nothing  for  the  last  half  year  at  least. 

He  would  not  have  dared  to  fleece  the  girl  thus,  had  she 
had  any  legally  constituted  guardians ;  or  had  those  who 
would  gladly  have  interfered,  had  power  to  protect  her.  But 
he  took  care  so  to  word  the  quittance,  that  in  the  event  of  any 
thing  going  wrong,  he  might  yet  claim  his  hundred  pounds 
from  Mrs  Forbes. 

Annie  read  over  the  receipt,  and  saw  that  she  had  involved 
herself  in  a  difficulty.  How  would  Mrs  Forbes  take  it  ?  She 
begged  Bruce  not  to  tell  her,  and  he  was  ready  enough  to 
consent.  He  did  more.  He  wrote  to  Mrs  Forbes  to  the 
efliect  that,  upon  reflection,  he  had  resolved  to  drop  further 
proceedings  for  the  present ;  and  when  she  carried  him  a  half- 
year's  interest,  he  took  it  in  silence,  justifying  himself  on  the 
ground  that  the  whole  transaction  was  of  doubtful  success, 
and  he  must  therefore  secure  what  he  could  secure. 

As  may  well  be  supposed,  Annie  had  very  little  money  to 
give  away  now ;  and  this  subjected  her  to  a  quite  new  sense 
of  suflfering. 


CHAPTEB  XC. 


It  was  a  dreary  wintry  summer  to  all  at  Howglen.  Why 
should  the  ripe  corn  wave  deep-dyed  in  the  gold  of  the  sun- 
beams, when  Alec  lay  frozen  in  the  fields  of  ice,  or  sweeping 
about  under  them  like  a  broken  sea-weed  in  the  waters  so 
cold,  so  mournful  ?  Yet  the  work  of  the  world  must  go  on. 
The  corn  must  be  reaped.     Things  must  be  bought  and  sold. 


428  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

Even  the  mourners  must  eat  and  drink.  The  stains  which  the 
day  had  gathered  must  be  washed  from  the  brow  of  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  the  dust  to  which  Alec  had  gone  down  must  be 
swept  from  the  chair  in  which  he  had  been  wont  to  sit.  So 
things  did  go  on — of  themselves  as  it  were,  for  no  one  cared 
much  about  them,  although  it  was  the  finest  harvest  that  year 
that  Howglen  had  ever  borne.  It  had  begun  at  length  to  ap- 
pear that  the  old  labour  had  not  been  cast  into  a  dead  grave, 
but  into  a  living  soil,  like  that  of  which  Sir  Philip  Sidney  says 
in  his  sixty-fifth  psalm : 

"  Each  clodd  relenteth  at  thy  dressing," 

as  if  it  were  a  human  soul  that  had  bethought  itself  and  be- 
gan to  bring  forth  fruit. — This  might  be  the  beginning  of 
good  things.     But  what  did  it  matter  ? 

Annie  grew  paler,  but  relaxed  not  a  single  efibrt  to  fill  her 
place.  She  told  her  poor  friends  that  she  had  no  money  now, 
and  could  not  help  them ;  but  most  were  nearly  as  giad  to  see 
her  as  before  ;  while  one  of  them  who  had  never  liked  receiving 
alms  from  a  girl  in  such  a  lowly  position,  as  well  as  some  who 
had  always  taken  them  thankfully,  loved  her  better  when  she 
had  nothing  to  give. 

She  renewed  her  acquaintance  with  Peter  "Whaup,  the 
blacksmith,  through  his  wife,  who  was  ill,  and  received  her 
visits  gladly. 

"  Por,"  she  said,  "  she's  a  fine  douce  lass,  and  speyks  to  ye 
as  gin  ye  war  ither  fowk,  and  no  as  gin  she  kent  a'thing,  and 
cam  to  tell  ye  the  muckle  half  o'  't." 

I  .wonder  how  much  her  friends  understood  of  what  she 
read  to  them  ?  She  did  not  confine  herself  to  the  Bible,  which 
indeed  she  was  a  little  shy  of  reading  except  they  wanted  it, 
but  read  anything  that  pleased  herself,  never  doubting  that 
"  ither  fowk"  could  enjoy  what  she  enjoyed.  She  even  tried 
the  Paradise  Lost  upon  Mrs  Whaup,  as  she  had  tried  it  long 
ago  upon  Tibbie  Dyster ;  and  Mrs  Whaup  never  seemed  tired 
of  listening  to  it.  I  daresay  she  understood  about  as  much  of 
it  as  poets  do  of  the  celestial  harmonies  ever  toning  around 
them. 

And  Peter  Whaup  was  once  known,  when  more  tliau  half 
drunk,  to  stop  his  swearing  in  mid-volley,  simply  because  he 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Annie  at  the  other  end  of  the  street. 

So  the  maiden  grew  in  favour.  Ilcr  beauty,  both  inward 
and  outward,  was  that  of  the  twiliglit,  of  a  morning  cloudy 
with  high  clouds,  or  of  a  silvery  sea :  it  was  a  spiritual  beauty 
for  the  most  part.     And  her  sorrow  gave  a  quiet  grace  to  her 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  429 

demeanour,  peacefully  ripening  it  into  what  is  loveliest  in  lady- 
hood. She  always  looked  like  one  waiting — sometimes  like 
one  listening,  as  she  waited,  to  "  melodies  unheard." 


CHAPTEE  XCI. 


Oke  night,  in  the  end  of  October,  James  Dow  was  walking 
by  the  side  of  his  cart  along  a  lonely  road,  through  a  peat- 
moss, on  his  way  to  the  nearest  sea-port  for  a  load  of  coals. 
The  moon  was  high  and  full.  He  was  approaching  a  solitary 
milestone  in  the  midst  of  the  moss.  It  was  the  loneliest  place. 
Low  swells  of  peat-ground,  the  burial  places  of  old  forests, 
rolled  away  on  every  side,  with,  here  and  there,  patches  of  the 
white-bearded  canna-down,  or  cotton-grass,  glimmering  doubt- 
fully as  the  Wind  woke  and  turned  himself  on  the  wide  space, 
where  he  found  nothing  to  puft"  at  but  those  same  little  old 
fairies  sunning  their  hoary  beards  in  the  strange  moon.  As 
Dow  drew  near  to  the  milestone  he  saw  an  odd-looking  figure 
seated  upon  it.  He  was  about  to  ask  him  if  he  would  like  a 
lift,  when  the  figure  rose,  and  cried  joyfully, 

"  Jamie  Doo  !  " 

James  Dow  staggered  back,  and  was  nearly  thrown  down 
by  the  slow-rolling  wheel ;  for  the  voice  was  Alec  Forbes's. 
He  gasped  for  breath,  and  felt  as  if  he  were  recovering  from  a 
sudden  stroke  of  paralysis,  during  which  everything  about  him 
had  passed  away  and  a  new  order  come  in.  All  that  he  was 
capable  of  was  to  cry  wo  !  to  his  horse. 

There  stood  Alec,  in  rags,  with  a  face  thin  but  brown — 
healthy,  bold,  and  firm.  He  looked  -ten  years  older  standing 
there  in  the  moonlight. 

"  The  Lord  preserve's  !  "  cried  Dow,  and  could  say  no  more. 

"  He  has  preserved  me,  ye  see,  Jeamie.    Hoo's  my  mother  ?  " 

"  She's  brawly,  brawly,  Mr  Alec.  The  Lord  preserve's  ! 
She's  been  terrible  aboot  ye.  Ye  maunna  gang  in  upo'  her.  It 
wad  kill  her." 

"  I  hae  a  grainy  sense  left,  Jeamie.  But  I'm  awfu'  tired. 
Ye  maun  jist  turn  yer  cairt  and  tak'  me  hame.  I'll  be  worth 
a  lade  o'  coal  to  my  mither  ony  gait.  An'  syne  ye  can  brak  it 
till  her." 

Without  another  word,  Dow  turned  his  horse,  helped  Alec 
into  the  cart,  covered  him  with  his  coat  and  some  sti-aw,  and 
strode  away  beside,  not  knowing  whether  he  was  walking  in  a 


430  ALEC   FOKBlic^    JF   HOWGLEN. 

dream,  or  in  a  real  starry  night.  Alec  fell  fast  asleep,  and 
never  waked  till  the  cart  stood  still,  about  midnight,  at  his 
mother's  door.     He  started  up. 

"Lie  still,  Mr  Alec,"  said  Dow,  in  a  whisper.  "The  mis- 
tress '11  be  in  her  bed.  And  gin  ye  gang  in  upo'  her  that  gait, 
ye'Il  drive  her  daft." 

Alec  lay  down  again,  and  Dow  went  to  Mary's  window,  on 
the  other  side,  to  try  to  wake  her.     But  just  as  he  returned, 
Alec  heard  his  mother's  window  open. 
"  Who's  there  ?  "  she  called. 

"  Naebody  but  me,  Jeamie  Doo,"  answered  James.  "  I  was 
half-gaits  to  Portlokie,  whan  I  had  a  mishap  upo'  the  road. 
Bettie  pat  her  fit  upon  a  sharp  stane,  and  feU  doon,  and  bruik 
baith  her  legs." 

"  How  did  she  come  home  then  ?  " 
"  She  bude  to  come  hame,  mem." 
"  Broke  her  legs  !  " 

"  Hoot,  mem — her  k-nees.  I  dinna  mean  the  banes,  ye 
ken,  mem ;  only  the  skin.  But  she  wasna  fit  to  gang  on.  And 
sae  I  brocht  her  back." 

"  What's  that  i'  the  cairt  ?  Is't  onything  deid  ?  " 
"Na,  mem,  de'il  a  bit  o'  't!  It's  livin'  eneuch.  It's  a 
stranger  lad  that  I  gae  a  lift  till  upo'  the  road.  He's  fell  tired." 
But  Dow's  voice  trembled,  or — or  something  or  other  re- 
vealed all  to  the  mother's  heart.  She  gave  a  great  cry.  Alec 
sprung  from  the  cart,  rushed  into  the  house,  and  was  in  his 
mother's  arms. 

Annie  was  asleep  in  the  next  room,  but  she  half  awoke 
with  a  sense  of  his  presence.  She  had  heard  his  voice 
through  the  folds  of  sleep.  And  she  thought  she  was  lying 
on  the  rug  before  the  dining-room  fire,  with  Alec  and  his 
mother  at  the  tea-table,  as  on  that  night  when  he  brought 
lier  in  from  the  snow-hut.  Finding  out  confusedly  that 
the  supposition  did  not  correspond  with  some  other  vague 
consciousness,  she  supposed  next  that  she  "had  died  in  sleep 
and  was  a  blessed  ghost,"  just  going  to  find  Alec  in  heaven. 
That  was  abandoned  in  its  turn,  and  all  at  once  she  knew  that 
she  w^as  in  her  own  bed,  and  that  Alec  and  his  mother  were 
talking  in  the  next  room. 

She  rose,  but  could  hardly  dress  herself  for  trembling. 
When  she  was  dressed  she  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed 
to  bethink  herself. 

The  joy  was  almost  torture,  but  it  had  a  certain  qualifying 
bitter  in  it.  Ever  since  she  had  believed  him  dead,  Alec  had 
been  so  near  to  her!     She  had  loved  him  as  much  as  ever  she 


ALEC  FORBES  OF  HOWGLEN.  431 

would.  But  Life  liacl  come  in  suddenly,  and  divided  those 
whom  Death  had  joined.  Now  he  was  a  great  way  off;  and 
she  dared  not  speak  to  him  whom  she  had  cherished  in  her 
heart.  Modesty  took  the  telescope  from  the  hands  of  Love, 
and  turning  it,  put  the  larger  end  to  A.nnie's  eye.  Ever 
since  her  confession  to  Curly,  she  had  been  making  Iresh 
discoveries  in  her  own  heart ;  and  now  the  tide  of  her  love 
swelled  so  strong  that  she  felt  it  must  break  out  in  an  agony 
of  joy,  and  betray  her  if  once  she  looked  in  the  face  of  Alec 
alive  from  the  dead.  IS^or  was  this  all.  What  she  had  done 
about  his  mother's  debt,  must  come  out  soon ;  and  although 
Alec  could  not  think  that  she  meant  to  lay  him  under  obliga- 
tion, he  might  yet  feel  under  obligation,  and  that  she  could 
not  bear.  These  things  and  many  more  so  worked  in  the 
sensitive  maiden  that  as  soon  as  she  heard  Alec  and  his 
mother  go  to  the  dining-room  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and 
cloak,  stole  like  a  thief  through  the  house  to  the  back  door, 
and  let  herself  out  into  the  night. 

She  avoided  the  path,  and  went  through  the  hedge  into  a 
field  of  stubble  at  the  back  of  the  house  across  which  she  made 
her  way  to  the  turnpike  road  and  the  new  bridge  over  the 
Glamour.  Often  she  turned  to  look  back  to  the  window  of 
the  room  where  he  that  had  been  dead  was  alive  and  talking 
with  his  widowed  mother ;  and  only  when  the  intervening 
trees  hid  it  from  her  sight  did  she  begin  to  think  what  she 
should  do.  She  could  think  of  nothing  but  to  go  to  her  aunt 
once  more,  and  ask  her  to  take  her  in  for  a  few  days.  So  she 
walked  on  through  the  sleeping  town. 

Not  a  soul  was  awake,  and  the  stillness  was  awful.  It 
"was  a  place  of  tombs.  And  those  tombs  were  haunted  by 
dreams.  Away  towards  the  west,  the  moon  lay  on  the  steep- 
sloping  edge  of  a  rugged  cloud,  appearing  to  have  rolled  half- 
way down  from  its  lofty  peak,  and  about  to  be  launched  off 
its  baseless  bulk  into 

"  the  empty,  vast,  and  wandering  air." 

In  the  middle  of  the  large  square  of  the  little  gray  town  she 
stood  and  looked  around  her.  All  one  side  lay  in  shade ;  the 
greater  part  of  the  other  three  lay  in  moonlight.  The  old 
growth  of  centuries,  gables  and  fronts — stepping  out  into  the 
light,  retreating  into  the  shadow— outside  stairs  and  dark 
gateways,  stood  up  in  the  night  warding  a  townful  of  sleepers. 
Not  one  would  be  awake  now.  Ah  yes !  there  was  light  in 
the  wool-carder's  window.  His  wife  was  dying.  That  light 
over  the  dying,  wiped  the  death-look  from  the  face  of  the 


432  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

sleeping  town.  Annie  roused  herself  and  passed  on,  fearing 
to  be  seen.  It  was  the  only  thing  to  be  afraid  of.  But  the 
stillness  was  awful.  One  silence  only  could  be  more  awful : 
the  same  silence  at  noon-day. 

So  she  passed  into  the  western  road  and  through  the  trees 
to  the  bridge  over  the  Wan  Water.  They  stood  so  still  in 
the  moonlight  !  And  the  smell  from  the  withering  fields  laid 
bare  of  the  harvest  and  breathing  out  their  damp  odours, 
came  to  her  mixed  with  the  chill  air  from  the  dark  hills  around, 
already  spiced  with  keen  atoms  of  frost,  soon  to  appear  in 
spangly  spikes.  Beneath  the  bridge  the  river  flowed  maun- 
deringly,  blundering  out  unintelligible  news  of  its  parent  bog 
and  all  the  dreary  places  it  had  come  through  on  its  way  to 
the  strath  of  Grlamerton,  which  nobody  listened  to  but  one 
glad-hearted,  puzzle-brained  girl,  who  stood  looking  down 
into  it  from  the  bridge  when  she  ought  to  have  been  in  bed 
and  asleep.  She  was  not  far  from  Clippeustrae,  but  she  could 
not  go  there  so  early,  for  her  aunt  would  be  fi'ightened  first 
and  angry  next.  So  she  wandered  up  the  stream  to  the  old 
church-forsaken  churchyard,  and  sat  on  one  of  the  tomb- 
stones. It  became  very  cold  as  the  morning  drew  on.  The 
moon  went  down ;  the  stars  grew  dim ;  the  river  ran  with  a 
livelier  murmur ;  and  through  all  the  fine  gradations  of  dawn 
— cloudy  wind  and  grey  sky — the  gates  of  orange  and  red 
burst  open,  and  the  sun  came  forth  rejoicing.  The  long 
night  was  over.  It  had  not  been  a  very  weary  one ;  for 
Annie  had  thoughts  of  her  own,  and  like  the  earth  in  the  warm 
summer  nights,  could  shine  and  flash  up  through  the  dark, 
seeking  the  face  of  Grod  in  the  altar-flame  of  prayer.  Tet 
she  was  glad  when  the  sun  came.  With  the  first  bubble  of 
the  spring  of  light  bursting  out  on  the  hill-top,  she  rose  and 
walked  through  the  long  shadows  of  the  graves  down  to  the 
river  and  through  the  long  shadows  of  the  stubble  down  the 
side  of  the  river,  which  shone  in  the  morning  light  like  a 
flowing  crystal  of  delicate  brown — and  so  to  Clippeustrae, 
where  she  found  her  aunt  still  in  her  night-cap.  She  was 
standing  at  the  door,  however,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand, 
looking  abroad  as  if  for  some  one  that  might  be  crossing 
hitherward  from  the  east.  She  did  not  see  Annie  approaching 
from  tlie  north. 

"  What  are  ye  luikin'  for,  auntie  ?  " 
"  Naethiug.     Nae  for  you,  ony  gait,  lassie." 
"  Weel,  ye   see,  I'm  come  ohn  luikit  for.     But  ye  was 
liiikin'  for  somebody,  auntie." 

"Na.  .  I  was  only  jist  luikin'." 


ALEC   FORBES   OF   HOWGLEN.  433 

■  Even  Annie  did  not  then  know  that  it  was  the  soul's 
hunger,  the  vague  sense  of  a  need  which  nothing  but  the  God 
of  human  faces,  the  God  of  the  morning  and  of  the  starful 
night,  the  God  of  love  and  self-forgetfulness,  can  satisfy,  that 
sent  her  money-loving,  poverty-stricken,  pining,  grumbling 
old  aunt  out  staring  towards  the  east.  It  is  this  formless 
idea  of  something  at  hand  that  keeps  men  and  women  striving 
to  tear  from  the  bosom  of  the  world  the  secret  of  their  own 
hopes.  How  little  they  know  what  they  look  for  in  reality 
\  is  their  God !  This  is  that  for  which  their  heart  and  their 
flesh  cry  out. 

Lead,  lead  me  on,  my  Hopes.  I  know  that  ye  are  true 
and  not  vain.  Vanish  from  my  eyes  day  after  day,  but  ai'ise 
in  noAv  forms.  I  will  follow  your  holy  deception; — follow 
till  ye  have  brought  me  to  the  feet  of  my  Father  in  Heaven, 
where  1  shall  find  you  all  with  folded  wings  spangling  the 
sapphire  dusk  whereon  stands  His  throne,  which  is  our 
home. 

"  What  do  ye  want  sae  ear's  this,  Annie  Anderson  ?  " 

Margaret's  first  thought  was  always — "  What  can  the  body 
be  wantin'  ?  " 

"  I  want  ye  to  tak'  me  in  for  a  while,"  answered  Annie. 

"  For  an  hoor  or  twa  ?     Ow  ay." 
Na.     For  a  week  or  twa  maybe," 

"  'Deed  no.  I'll  do  naething  o'  the  kin'.  Lat  them  'at 
made  ye  prood,  keep  ye  prood." 

"  I'm  nae  prood,  auntie.     AVhat  gars  ye  say  that  ?  " 

"  Sae  prood  'at  ye  wadna  tak'  a  gude  offer  whan  it  was  i' 
yer  pooer.  And  syne  they  turn  ye  oot  whan  it  shuits  them- 
sels.  Gentle  fowks  is  sair  misca'd  (w?.s7Zflffl(?f?).  I'mnogaein' 
to  tak'  ye  in.  There's  Dawvid  Gordon  wants  a  lass.  Ye  can 
jist  gang  till  a  place  like  ither  fowk." 

"I'll  gang  and  luik  efter  't  direckly.  Hoo  far  is't, 
Auntie  ? '_' 

"  Gaein'  and  giein'  awa'  yer  siller  to  beggars  as  gin  't  war 
steAv  (dust),  jist  to  be  a  gran'  lady  !  Te're  nane  sae  gran',  I 
can  tell  ye.  An'  syne  comin'  to  puir  fowk  like  me  to  tak'  ye 
in  for  a  week  or  twa !  Weel  I  wat !  " 
^  Auntie  had  been  listening  to  evil  tongues — so  much  easier 
to  listen  to  than  just  tongues.  With  difficulty  Annie  kept 
back  her  tears.  She  made  no  defence  ;  tried  to  eat  the  porridge 
which  her  aunt  set  before  her ;  and  departed.  Before  three 
hours  were  over,  she  had  the  charge  of  the  dairy  and  cooking 
at  Willowcraig  for  the  next  six  mouths  of  coming  winter  and 
spring.     Protected  from  suspicion,  her   spirits   rose   all  the 

28 


434  ALEC   FORBES    OF   HOWGLEN. 

cheerier  for  their  temporary  depression,  and  she  went  singing 
about  the  house  like  a  Untie. 

"  As  she  did  not  appear  at  breakfast,  and  was  absent  from 
the  dinner-table  as  well,  Mrs  Forbes  set  out  with  Alec  to 
inquire  after  her,  and  not  knowing  where  else  to  go  first,  betook 
herself  to  Eobert  Bruce.  He  showed  more  surprise  than 
pleasure  at  seeing  Alec,  smiling  with  his  own  acridness  as  he 
said, 

"  I  doobt  ye  haena  brocht  hame  that  barrel  o'  ile  ye  pro- 
mised me,  Mr  Alec  ?  It  wad  hae  cleared  aff  a  guid  sheave  o' 
yer  mither's  debts." 

Alec  answered  cheerily,  although  his  face  flushed, 

"  All  in  good  time,  I  hope,  Mr  Bruce.  I'm  obliged  to  you 
for  your  forbearance,  though." 

He  was  too  solemn-glad  to  be  angry. 

"It  canna  laist  for  ever,  ye  ken,"  rejoined  Bruce,  happy  to 
be  able  to  bite,  although  his  poison-bag  was  gone. 

Alec  made  no  reply. 

"  Have  you  seen  Annie  Anderson  to-day,  Mr  Bruce  ?  " 
asked  his  mother. 

"  'Deed  no,  mem.  She  doesna  aften  trouble  huz  wi'  her 
company.     We're  no  gran'  eneuch  for  her." 

"Hasn't  she  been  here  to-day?"  repeated  Mrs  Forbes, 
with  discomposure  in  her  look  and  tone. 

"  Hae  ye  tint  her,  mem  ?  "  rejoined  Bruce.  "  That  is  a 
peety.  She'll  be  awa'  wi'  that  vaigabone,  "Willie  Macwha.  He 
was  i'  the  toon  last  nicht.  I  saw  him  gang  by  wi'  Baubie 
Peterson." 

They  made  him  no  reply,  understanding  well  enough  that 
though  the  one  premise  might  be  true,  the  conclusion  must  be 
as  false  as  it  was  illogical  and  spiteful.  They  did  not  go  to 
Greorge  Macwha's,  but  set  out  for  Clippenstrae.  "When  they 
reached  the  cottage,  they  found  Meg's  nose  in  full  vigour. 

"  Na.  She's  no  here.  What  for  sud  she  be  here  ?  She 
has  no  claim  upo'  me,  although  it  pleases  you  to  turn  her  oot 
— efter  bringin'  her  up  to  notions  that  hae  jist  ruined  her  wi' 
pride." 

"  Indeed  I  didn't  turn  her  out,  Miss  Anderson." 

"  Weel,  ye  sud  never  hae  taen  her  in." 

There  was  something  in  her  manner  whicli  made  them  cer- 
tain she  knew  where  Annie  was  ;  but  as  she  avoided  every 
attempt  to  draw  her  into  the  admission,  tliey  departed  foiled, 
although  relieved.  She  knew  well  enough  that  Annie's  refuge 
could  not  long  remain  concealed,  but  she  found  it  pleasant  to 
annoy  Mrs  Forbes. 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX.  435 

Afld  not  many  days  passed  before  INJrs  Forbes  did  learu 
where  Annie  vras.  But  she  was  so  taken  up  with  her  son,  that 
.^weeks  even  passed  before  that  part  of  her  nature  which  needed 
a  daughter's  love  began  to  assert  itself  again,  and  turn  long- 
ingly towards  her  all  but  adopted  child. 

Alec  went  away  once  more  to  the  great  town.  He  had 
certain  remnants  of  study  to  gather  up  at  the  university,  and 
a  certain  experience  to  go  through  in  the  preparation  of  drugs, 
without  which  he  could  not  obtain  his  surgeon's  diploma.  The 
good  harvest  would  by  and  by  put  a  little  money  in  his 
mother's  hands,  and  the  sooner  he  was  ready  to  practise  the 
better. 

The  very  day  after  he  went,  Mrs  Porbea  drove  to  Willow- 
craig  to  see  Annie.  She  found  her  short-coated  and  short- 
wrappered,  like  any  other  girl  at  a  farmhouse.  Annie  was 
rather  embarrassed  at  the  sight  of  her  friend.  Mrs  Forbes 
could  easily  see,  however,  that  there  was  no  breach  in  her 
affection  towards  her.  Yet  it  must  be  confessed  that  having 
regard  to  the  final  return  of  her  son,  she  was  quite  as  well 
pleased  to  know  that  she  was  bound  to  remain  where  she  was 
for  some  time  to  come. 

She  found  the  winter  very  dreary  without  her,  though. 


CHAPTER  XCII. 


FiifDiNG  herself  in  good  quarters,  Annie  re-engaged  herself 
at  the  end  of  the  half-year.  She  had  spent  the  winter  in  house 
work,  combined  with  the  feeding  of  pigs  and  poultry,  and  par- 
tial ministrations  to  the  wants  of  the  cows,  of  which  she  had 
milked  the  few  continuing  to  give  milk  upon  turnips  and  straw, 
and  made  the  best  of  their  scanty  supply  for  the  use  of  the 
household.  There  was  no  hardship  in  her  present  life.  She  had 
plenty  of  wholesome  food  to  eat,  and  she  lay  warm  at  night. 
The  old  farmer,  who  was  rather  overbearing  with  his  men,  was 
kind  to  her  because  he  liked  her ;  and  the  guidwife  was  a  sonsy 
{well  co7iditioned)  dame,  who,  when  she  scolded,  never  meant 
anything  by  it. 

She  cherished  her  love  for  Alec,  but  was  quite  peaceful  as  to 
the  future.  How  she  might  have  felt  had  she  heard  that  he  was 
going  to  be  married,  I  cannot  take  upon  me  to  say. 

When  her  work  was  done,  she  would  go  out  for  a  lonely    | 


436  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

walk,  without  asking  leave  or  giving  offence,  indulging  in  the 
same  lawlessness  as  before,  and  seeming  incapable  of  being  re- 
strained by  other  bonds  than  those  of  duty. 

And  now  the  month  of  April  was  nearly  over,  and  the  prim- 
roses were  glintirJ'  on  the  braes. 

One  evening  she  went  out  bare-headed  to  look  how  a  certain 
den,  wont  to  be  haunted  by  wild-flowers  and  singing-birds,  was 
getting  on  towards  its  complement  of  summer  pleasures.  As 
she  was  climbing  over  a  fence,  a  horseman  came  round  the  cor- 
ner of  the  road.  She  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  Alec,  and  got 
down  again. 

Change  had  passed  upon  both  since  they  parted.  He  was 
a  full-grown  man  with  a  settled  look.  She  was  a  lovely  woman, 
even  more  delicate  and  graceful  than  her  childhood  had 
promised. 

As  she  got  down  from  the  fence,  he  got  down  from  his 
horse.  Without  a  word  on  either  side,  their  hands  joined,  and 
still  they  stood  silent  for  a  minute,  Annie  with  her  eyes  on  the 
ground,  Alec  gazing  in  her  face,  which  was  pale  with  more 
than  its  usual  paleness. 

"I  saw  Curly  yesterday,"  said  Alec  at  length,  with  what 
seemed  to  Annie  a  meaning  look. 

Her  face  flushed  as  red  as  fire. — Could  Curly  have  be- 
trayed her  ? 

She  managed  to  stammer  out, 

"Oh!  Did  you? 

And  then  silence  fell  again. 

"  Eh  !  Alec,"  she  said  at  length,  taking  up  the  conversation, 
in  her  turn,  "  we  thought  we  would  never  see  ye  again." 

"  I  thought  so  too,"  answered  Alec,  "  when  the  great  berg 
came  down  on  us  through  the  snow-storm,  and  flung  the  barque 
upon  the  floe  with  her  side  crushed  in. — How  I  used  to  dream 
about  the  old  school-days,  Annie,  and  finding  you  in  my  hut ! 
— And  I  did  find  you  in  the  snow,  Annie." 

But  a  figure  came  round  the  other  corner — for  the  road 
made  a  double  sweep  at  this  point — and  cried — 

"  Annie,  come  hame  direcly.     Te're  wantit." 

"  I'm  coming  to  see  you  again  soon,  Annie,"  said  Alee. 
"  But  I  must  go  away  for  a  month  or  two  first." 

Annie  replied  with  a  smile  and  an  outstretched  hand — 
nothing  more.     She  could  wait  well  enough. 

How  lovely  the  flowers  in  the  dyke-sides  looked  as  she  fol- 
lowed Mrs  Gordon  home !  But  the  thought  that  perhaps 
Curly  had  told  him   something  was  like   the  serpent  under 


ALEC    FORBES   OF    HOWGLEN.  437 

them.  Tet  somehow  she  had  got  so  beautiful  before  she 
reached  the  bouse,  that  her  aunt,  who  had  come  to  see  her, 
called  out, 

"  Losh  !  lassie  !  What  hae  ye  been  aboot  ?  Ye  hae  a  colour 
by  ordinar'." 

"  That's  easy  accoontet  for,"  said  her  mistress  roguishly. 
"  She  was  stan'in'  killoguin  wi'  a  bonnie  young  lad  an'  a  horse. 
I.  winna  hae  sic  doin's  aboot  my  hoose,  I  can  tell  ye,  lass." 

Margaret  Anderson  flew  into  a  passion,  and  abused  her 
with  many  words,  which  Annie,  so  far  from  resenting,  scarcely 
even  heard.  At  length  she  ceased,  and  departed  almost  with- 
out an  adieu.  But  what  did  it  matter  ? — What  did  any  earthly 
thing  matter,  if  only  Curly  had  not  told  him  ? 

Now,  all  that  Curly  had  told  Alec  was  that  Annie  was  not 
engaged  to  him. 

.       So  the  days  and  nights  passed,  and  Spring,  the  girl,  changed 
y^  into  Summer,  the  woman ;  and  still  Alec  did  not  come. 

One  evening,  when  a  wind  that  blew  from  the  west,  and 
seemed  to  smell  of  the  roses  of  the  sunset,  was  filling  her  rosy 
heart  with  joy — Annie  sat  in  a  rough  little  seat,  scarcely  an 
arbour,  at  the  bottom  of  a  garden  of  the  true  country  ordei", 
where  all  the  dear  old-fashioned  glories  of  sweet-peas,  cabbage- 
roses,  larkspur,  gardener's  garters,  honesty,  poppies,  and 
peonies,  grew  in  homely  companionship  with  gooseberry  and 
currant  bushes,  with  potatoes  and  pease.  The  scent  of  the  sun- 
set came  in  reality  from  a  cheval  defrise  of  wallflower  on  the 
coping  of  the  low  stone  wall  behind  where  she  was  sitting  with 
her  Milton.  She  read  aloud  in  a  low  voice  that  sonnet  begin- 
ning '■^  Lady  that  in  the  prime  of  earliest  youth.^''  As  she  finished 
it,  a  voice,  as  low,  said,  almost  in  her  ear, 

"  That's  you,  Annie." 

Alec  was  looking  over  the  garden  wall  behind  her. 

"  Eh,  Alec,"  she  cried,  starting  to  her  feet,  at  once  shocked 
and  delighted,  "  diuna  say  that.  It's  dreidfu'  to  hear  ye  say 
sic  a  thing.     I  wish  1  was  a  wee  like  her." 

"  Weel,  Annie,  I  think  ye're  jist  like  her.  But  come  oot 
wi'  me.  I  hae  a  story  to  tell  ye.  Gie  me  yerhan',  andpityer 
fit  upo'  the  seat." 

She  was  over  the  wall  in  a  moment,  and  they  were  soon 
seated  under  the  trees  of  the  copse  near  which  Annie  had  met 
him  before.  The  brown  twilight  was  coming  on,  and  a  warm 
sleepy  hush  pervaded  earth  and  air,  broken  only  by  the  stream 
below  them,  cantering  away  over  its  stones  to  join  the  Wan 
Water.     Neither  of  them  was  inclined  to  quarrel  with  the  tree- 


438  ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEX. 

less  country  about  them  :  tliej  were  lapped  iu  foliage  ;  nor  with 
the  desolate  moorland  hills  around  them :  they  only  drove  them 
closer  together. 

Time  unmeasured  by  either  passed  without  speech. 

"  They  tell't  me,"  said  Alec  at  length,  "  that  you  and 
Curly  had  made  it  up." 

"  Alec !  "  exclaimed  Annie,  and  looked  up  in  his  face  as  if 
he  had  accused  her  of  infidelity,  but,  instantly  dropping  her 
eyes,  said  no  more. 

"  I  wad  hae  fun'  ye  oot  afore  a  day  was  ower,  gin  it  hadna 
been  for  that." 

Annie's  heart  beat  violently,  but  she  said  nothing,  and, 
after  a  silence,  Alec  went  on. 

"  Did  my  mother  ever  tell  ye  about  how  the  barque  was 
lost  ?  " 

"  No,  Alec." 

"  It  was  a  terrible  snow-storm  with  wind.  We  couldn't 
see  more  than  a  few  yards  a-head.  We  were  under  bare 
poles,  but  we  couldn't  keep  from  drifting.  All  in  a  moment  a 
huge  ghastly  thing  came  out  of  the  gloamin'  to  windward, 
bore  down  on  us  like  a  spectre,  and  dashed  us  on  a  floating 
field  of  ice.  The  barque  was  thrown  right  upon  it  with  one 
side  stove  in ;  but  nobody  was  killed.  It  was  an  awful  night, 
Annie ;  but  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you  about  it  now.  We 
made  a  rough  sledge,  and  loaded  it  with  provisions,  and  set 
out  westward,  and  were  carried  westward  at  the  same  time  on 
the  floe,  till  we  came  near  land.  Then  we  launched  our  boat 
and  got  to  the  shore  of  Greenland.  There  we  set  out  travel- 
ling southwards.  Many  of  our  men  died,  do  what  I  could  to 
keep  them  alive.  But  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  another  time, 
if  you'll  let  me.  What  I  want  to  tell  you  noo's  this. — Ilka 
nicht,  as  sure  as  I  lay  doon  i'  the  snaw  to  sleep,  I  dreamed  I 
was  at  hame.  A'  the  auld  stories  cam'  back.  I  woke  ance, 
thinkin'  I  was  carryin'  you  throu'  the  water  i'  the  lobby  o' 
the  schuil,  and  that  ye  was  greitin'  upo'  my  face.  And  whan 
I  woke,  my  face  was  weet.  I  doobt  I  had  been  greitin  mysel'. 
A'  the  auld  faces  cam'  roou'  me  illca  nicht,  Thomas  Crann  and 
Jeames  Dow  and  my  mother — whiles  ane  and  w^hiles  anither 
— but  ye  was  aye  there. 

"  Ae  mornin',  whan  I  woke  up,  I  was  my  lane.  I  dinna 
ken  richtly  hoo  it  had  happened.  I  think  the  men  war  nigh- 
han'  dazed  Avi'  the  terrible  cauld  and  the  w'eariness  o'  the 
traivel,  and  I  had  sleepit  ower  lang,  and  they  had  forgotten 
a'  aboot  me.  And  what  tliink  ye  was  the  first  thocht  i'  my 
heid,  whau  I  cam'  to  mysel',  i'  the  terrible  white  desolation 


ALEC   FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN.  439 

o'  cauld  and  ice  and  snaw  ?  I  wantit  to  run  strauclit  to  you, 
and  lay  my  heid  upo'  yer  shouther.  For  I  had  been  dreamin' 
a'  niclit  that  I  was  lyin'  i'  my  bed  at  hame,  terrible  ill,  and  ye 
war  gaein  aboot  the  room  like  an  angel,  wi'  the  glimmer  o' 
white  wings  aboot  ye,  which  I  reckon  was  the  snaw  comin' 
throu'  my  dream.  And  ye  wad  never  come  near  me ;  and 
I  cudna  speak  to  cry  to  ye  to  come ;  till  at  last,  whan  my 
hert  was  like  to  brak  'cause  ye  wadna  luik  at  me,  ye  turned 
wi'  tears  i'  yer  een,  and  cam'  to  the  bedside  and  leaned  ower 
me,  and — " 

Here  Alec's  voice  failed  him. 

"  Sae  ye  see  it  was  nae  wonner  that  I  wantit  you,  whan  I 
fand  mysel'  a'  my  lane  i'  the  dreidfu'  place,  the  very  beauty 
o'  which  was  deidly. 

"  Weel,  that  wasna  a'.  I  got  mair  that  day  than  I  thocht 
ever  to  get.  Annie,  I  think  what  Thomas  Crann  used  to  say 
maun  be  true.  Annie,  I  think  a  body  may  some  day  get  a 
kin'  o'  a  sicht  o'  the  face  o'  Grod. — I  was  sae  dooncast,  whan 
I  saw  mysel'  left  ahin',  that  I  sat  doon  upon  a  rock  and 
glowered  at  naething.  It  was  awfu'.  An'  it  grew  waur  and 
waur,  till  the  only  comfort  I  had  was  that  I  cudna  live  lang. 
And  wi'  that  the  thocht  o'  God  cam'  into  my  held,  and  it 
seemed  as  gin  I  had  a  richt,  as  it  war,  to  call  upon  him — I 
was  sae  miserable. 

"  And  there  cam'  ower  me  a  quaietness,  and  like  a  warm 
breath  o'  spring  air.  I  dinna  ken  what  it  was— but  it  set  me 
upo'  my  feet,  and  I  startit  to  follow  the  lave.  Snaw  had 
fa'en,  sae  that  I  could  hardly  see  the  track.  And  I  never 
cam'  up  wi'  them,  and  I  haena  heard  o'  them  sin'  syne. 

"  The  silence  at  first  had  been  fearfu' ;  but  noo,  somehoo 
or  ither,  I  canna  richtly  explain  't,  the  silence  seemed  to  be 
God  himsel'  a'  aboot  me. 

"  And  I'll  never  forget  him  again,  Annie. 

"  I  cam'  upo'  tracks,  but  no  o'  oor  ain  men.  They  war  the 
fowk  o'  the  country.  And  they  brocht  me  whaur  there  was  a 
schooner  lyin'  rejidy  to  gang  to  Archangel.     And  here  I  am." 

Was  there  ever  a  gladder  heart  than  Annie's  ?  She  was 
weeping  as  if  her  life  would  flow  away  in  tears.  She  had 
known  that  Alec  would  come  back  to  God  some  day. 

He  ceased  speaking,  but  she  could  not  cease  weeping.  If 
she  had  tried  to  stop  the  tears,  she  would  have  been  torn 
with  sobs.  They  sat  silent  for  a  long  time.  At  length  Alec 
spoke  again : 

"  Annie,  I  don't  deserve  it — but  loill  you  be  my  wife  some 
day?" 


440  ALEC    FORBES    OF    HOWGLEN. 

AbcI  all  the  answer  Annie  made  was  to  lay  her  head  on 
liis  bosom  and  weep  on. 


CHAPTEE  XCIII. 


Is  it  worth  while,  I  debate  with  myself,  to  write  one  word 
more  ? — Shall  I  tie  the  ends  of  my  warp,  or  leave  them  loose  ? 
— I  will  tie  them,  but  no  one  needs  sit  out  the  process. 

The  farm  of  Howglen  prospered.  Alec  never  practised  in 
his  profession,  but  became  a  first-rate  farmer.  "Within  two 
j^ears  Annie  and  he  were  married,  and  began  a  new  chapter  of 
their  history. 

"When  Mrs  Eorbes  found  that  Alec  and  Annie  were  en- 
gaged, she  discovered  that  she  had  been  in  reality  wishing  it 
for  a  long  time,  and  that  the  opposing  sense  of  duty  had  been 
worldly. 

Mr  Cupples  came  to  see  them  every  summer,  and  gener- 
ally remained  over  the  harvest.  He  never  married.  But  he 
wrote  a  good  book. 

Thomas  Crann  and  he  had  many  long  disputes,  and  did 
each  other  good.  Thomas  grew  gentler  as  he  grew  older. 
And  he  learned  to  hope  more  for  other  people.  And  then  he 
hoped  more  for  himself  too. 

The  first  time  Curly  saw  Annie  after  the  wedding,  he  was 
amazed  at  his  own  presumption  in  ever  thinking  of  marrying 
such  a  lady.  When  about  thirty,  by  which  time  he  had  a 
good  business  of  his  own,  he  married  Isie  Constable — still 
little,  still  old-fashioned,  and  still  wise. 

Margaret  Anderson  was  taken  good  care  of  by  Annie 
Forbes,  but  kept  herself  clear  of  all  obligation  by  never  ac- 
knowledging any. 

B-obert  Bruce  had  to  refund,  and  content  himself  with  his 
rights.  He  died  worth  a  good  deal  of  money  notwithstanding, 
which  must  have  been  a  great  comfort  to  him  at  the  last. 

Toung  Robert  is  a  clergyman,  has  married  a  rich  wife, 
hopes  to  be  Moderator  of  tlie  Assembly  some  day,  and  never 
alludes  to  his  royal  ancestor. 

THE    END. 


44 


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